Distance
by Goose41
Summary: What happens when unforeseen circumstances cause Angie Flynn to realize that she's not the only one who has managed to build walls to protect herself? And what's the shortest distance between two broken hearts?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor the original premise upon which they are found. I have no affiliation with the show or the actors, even if Lauren Holly one of my tweets :) No intentional copyright infringement.

Author's note: I apologize ahead of time. Honestly, it's not that great. The show on the other hand - top notch. *Sigh* Oh, and keep reading and writing, folks. You guys are spectacular, too.

* * *

Surveying the scene before her, Angie was momentarily pleased as she thought about the best way to gloat to her best friend and partner. Somehow, she'd managed to beat him to yet another crime scene. Victories like these were very few and far between, Angie thought merrily, so she would enjoy even the smallest of joys that a 2:30AM wake-up call could provide. Messing with Vega was always one of her favorite pastimes.

"Okay, Betts, you're here and I'm here," Angie began as she approached her favorite redhead kneeling by the bumper of a produce truck. "I may not be the best detective on the force, but I'm pretty sure the likes of us only get called in when there's been a homicide."

At first glance, the scene appeared to be fairly cut and dry. However, Angie had been around long enough to know that first glances were often deceiving and nothing was ever cut and dry. Ever.

"Between you and me, I think they brought us out tonight for our good looks and sparkling personality," Betty replied. "Believe me when I say that there I are places I'd rather be, too. And I'm pretty sure my bed is calling me for a different reason than yours."

"Hey! Who says…" Angie's objection tapered off when Betty raised an eyebrow to fix her with a pointed look over the rim of her glasses that said she couldn't be fooled. Yeah, Angie thought, she should have known better than to pull a fast one. "Fair enough. You win. So we've got a young Caucasian female pinned under the front end of a flatbed. I'm going to venture out on a limb to say that the reason we're here is due to the fact that the impact isn't what killed her. Tell me, what have you got?"

With a heavy sigh as she pushed her glasses up her forehead, Betty stood up and pulled off her gloves.

"That's the thing, Ang. The impact should be what killed her. That, coupled with the subsequent blow to the back of her head as she hit the pavement could have done anyone in," But Betty still seemed a touch apprehensive. Glancing over her shoulder, Betty continued, "The driver is over there when you want to talk to him. When I got here, I could only make out bits and pieces of what he was trying to tell the responding officer because he was so upset."

Angie furrowed her brow as she snuck a glimpse from Betty to the visibly shaken driver and then back to Betty. Curious, she put her hands on her hips as she waited for the good doctor to fill in the blanks.

"But…?"

Betty's look of concern didn't dissipate, which certainly didn't do much to make the detective feel any better.

"Like I said, I only partially caught his account, but he mentioned something about the girl darting out into the road like she was running from something. Poor guy most likely didn't even have time to react before making contact. Well, that, and something about her being fairly disoriented," Betty concluded.

"No ID, no purse, no jewelry?" Angie mused aloud, pulling a small pair of gloves from her jeans' back pocket and sliding them on her hands.

Squatting to get a closer look at the young woman, Angie noticed some small tears on the woman's blouse partially hidden from view by the jacket over top. She also noted the faint dotted bruising upon her left collar bone and the skewed waistline of the slacks as her examination continued further south.

Pointing toward the woman's shoulder, Angie peered up at Betty.

"How much blood is that, Doc? And is that bruising to be from impact?" Angie questioned before returning her gaze to the body.

"I won't know for sure until further testing, but it doesn't appear to be much more than a litre. Otherwise, no, the bruising shouldn't have come from the hood of the truck. I can't say for certain, but it's doubtful enough time has passed for bruising like that to settle in. Plus, the pattern doesn't seem to match. I'll know more once I get her back to the lab, where I can check out that head wound a little better, too. If she was out of it, a blow to the head certainly wouldn't have improved the situation."

A shadow was soon cast over the body before her which caused Angie to glance upward. Standing slowly, Angie was met with the innocent gaze of Detective Brian Lucas. Sparing one last look at the young woman, Angie pulled off her blue gloves with a *snap* as she turned back to Lucas. Lucas raised his eyebrows in curiosity and took Angie's right hand in his to help her step over the body.

The young detective stood before her with a tray full of beverages in his left hand. One by one he started to pass the cardboard cups out – first to her, then one on to Betty, who had moved to stand on the other side of the truck's front end, before finally glancing around and looking back at her inquisitively. Angie nodded a thanks to him before Lucas spoke.

"Um – I – well, I was going to interview the driver, unless of course you and Detective Vega wanted to speak with him." Glancing back down at the two drinks still in hand, Lucas quickly returned his gaze to the women before him asking, "Speaking of which, where is Detective Vega? I've got some of that tea for him – you know, with the honey and, well, yeah," Lucas trailed off sheepishly.

Angie couldn't help but smirk over the lid of her own drink at Lucas, shooting a quick sideways glance at Betty before returning her gaze to the young detective before her. The kid really was a quick learner. Granted, a bit like an eager and overzealous puppy at times, but overall a really solid addition to the unit.

"Go ahead with the interview," she began, "and see if you can get some of these unis to canvas the area while you're at it. I know it's late, but maybe we'll get lucky and someone could have heard or seen something. I'm going to see if I can find the man of the hour while you get started. If he overslept, he'll never live this down."

Lucas turned to walk back to place the remaining cups on the roof of his own vehicle while fishing out his notebook and pen from his coat's inside pocket. Turning to a fresh page, he made his way over to the responding officer and the owner of the pickup.

Angie pointed to the victim, and Betty nodded.

"I'm all over it; Tox screen and a plethora of other tests and thorough examination as soon as I get her back in the lab."

"Thanks, Betts." Hiking a thumb over her left shoulder, "I'm gonna -"

"Yeah, uh-huh. I got it. Tell him I missed his fine -"

Angie interrupted before hearing the end of the statement, "Yeah, uh, no. That's not coming out of my mouth. I'll just let you two flirt face to face."

"Wit! I was going to say wit! Sheesh, get your mind out of the gutter. Actually, wait, no. Keep it there. Maybe one of these days the two of you will finally -" countered Betty.

Angie threw her hand up before Betty could go any further and smirked.

"No, no. I wouldn't want to come between you two."

"Oh, it was too late for that from day one," Betty winked.

Turning her back to her two colleagues, Angie rolled her eyes and sighed. Rounding the truck and making her way back toward her own vehicle, she fished her phone out of her back pocket. Hitting #2 on her speed dial, she brought the phone to her ear as she quickly tried to think of something witty to say. It had to be good; she knew if the situation were reversed, she'd never hear the end of it. Four rings later, Vega's voice echoed in her ear.

"This is Vega; I'll get back to you."

Weird. Angie could count on one hand the number of times she'd tried to get him and had gotten voicemail instead – all of which he had accounted for by claiming that he'd been in the shower and wasn't up to testing if his phone had waterproof features. Rather than leaving a message, Angie quickly tapped the END button. Just as quickly she swiped her thumb across the screen to tap the CALL button once again. However, just as her thumb was poised over the CALL button, her phone began to vibrate in her hand.

About damn time, she thought, but a quick glance at the caller ID told her that it was Manny instead. Tapping the screen to accept his call, she brought the phone up to her ear to greet her son.

"Hey baby! What's up?"

"…Mom?"

"Uh, yeah," she chuckled. "That's who you called. How was the game?"

"Look, Mom. I – uh – God, Mom. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Manny? What's wrong?" she questioned as she instinctively gripped the cup tighter to keep from dropping it.

"Oh my God, Mom – I didn't – I didn't mean to…"

"Manny. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's fine, okay? Calm down and tell me what's wrong."

"I – I'm sorry…."

"Manny! You're not making any sense. I'm not mad. Where are you? I'll come get you; just tell me."

"I'm – uh – I'm at -," Manny stuttered. "I'm at St. Paul's. I just…."

"Manny, its fine. I'm on my way, okay? Don't worry. I'll see you soon."

Ending the call, Angie swiped the back of her shaking hand across her forehead while taking a deep breath. Catching a glance as the minute hand ticked past the top of the hour on her watch, she decided she'd try Vega once more while worrying her lower lip between her teeth and mentally tried to calm her nerves.

"This is Vega; I'll get back to you."

This time, Angie opted to leave him a message as she climbed in behind the wheel.

"Hey, Partner. Rise and shine, we caught one. Of course now is when you choose to get a social life, but c'mon, it's time to get rolling. I'll meet you at the station, but I need to pick up Manny first. I'll grab some coffee on my way in if you promise to catch up on the details and follow some leads."

Pulling away from the curb, Angie tried to shake the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, and honestly, she couldn't tell if it was from her son's frightened tone coming through the line or the fact that her usual human anchor had still not returned any of her calls.

* * *

There you have it, folks. I'm not sure how long I'll drag this out, nor am I sure how often I can update - But! Ah, yes, but! I'll try my darnedest.

Questions? Comments? Suggestions?

Romeo: Call me but love!  
Juliet: Butt Love?! *shrugs shoulders* O Butt Love, Butt Love, wherefore art thou, Butt Love?


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Once again, the characters and the premise upon which they are based are not mine.

Author's note: Like I said before, keep reading and writing. You guys are great, too!

* * *

As she pulled into the closest available parking space, Angie suddenly realized that she had no recollection of the drive to the hospital. Shaking her head, Angie threw the car into PARK while simultaneously releasing her seatbelt. Keep your cool, she thought to herself as she schooled her features; Manny would only get more upset if he could read her worried expression.

Climbing out of the vehicle and making her way through the sliding doors of the Emergency Room, Angie wiped her palms on her jeans as she navigated through the maze of sickly patients and flurry of scrubs to the rather small nurse sitting behind the counter at one of the computers.

"Hi, I'm looking for Manny Flynn," Angie started, but was surprised to hear her voice sound so foreign to her own ears as it shook with nerves. She couldn't help but grimace at the sound; she needed to follow her own advice and calm down. She'd heard her own son's voice, not some random ER doctor or one of her fellow police officers, which helped to put things into perspective. How bad could the situation possibly be?

"I'm sorry ma'am; I'm going to need you to take a seat. As you can see, we have many patients who are waiting to be treated and we're a little understaffed," replied the young woman behind the counter. "Someone will be with you in just a moment," she finished without glancing up from the screen while gesturing to the crowded bay of benches not even ten feet away.

With a sigh, Angie pulled her badge from her left hip before slamming it down on the counter - so much for keeping your cool she thought. Oh, well. Sparing a glance at the woman's name tag before continuing, Angie tried again; "I don't believe you understood my question, Kimmy, so let's try this again. Hi, I'm Detective Angie Flynn and -"

Before she could continue, the pocket rocket in scrubs slammed her own ID badge down on top of the silver badge as she jumped to her feet before glaring up at Angie.

"Actually, I believe we have met, Detective Flynn. However, I believe it is you that doesn't understand. You see, here's the situation: I'm responsible for making sure each and every patient in here is treated in a timely fashion and best tended to in respect to their needs. As you are not holding any vital organs in the palm of your hands, or anywhere close to dying as we speak, I'm sure you can understand my reluctance to push you to the front of the line," the nurse finished tersely.

Taking a deep breath and letting it blow out and upward through tightly drawn lips, the breeze blew Angie's bangs off her forehead for a fraction of a second. Gathering her badge, she was about to retreat to a corner by the far wall when she heard a voice she recognized from a partially closed curtain about 25 feet away.

"Oww! No, you don't understand. Ow, damnit! Look, you need to call her; she needs to know!"

Following the voice behind the curtain, Angie strode down the corridor to the examination area in question. Gently pulling back the curtain, she came face to face with a burly orderly in blue scrubs about to make his way back toward the front desk. Coming to a halt in front of her, his mouth partially hung open in shock, Angie was about to introduce herself when suddenly -

"Mom! Oh, thank God, Mom!"

Eyes flashing from the orderly to her son on the bed, Angie couldn't help but be struck by how small he looked. With the pale green hospital gown hanging off his shoulders and frightened expression etched across his face, Manny looked more like a young boy than the young man he had grown to be.

Taking in his appearance, Angie's throat tightened. Sporting a large bandage over his right eyebrow, his eye was partially swollen shut and turning a gruesome shade of purple and Angie swore she could just make out faint traces of blood seeping through the bandage. Continuing across his face, a small cut could be seen across the bridge of his nose and corner of his lower lip that had most likely just stopped bleeding. Her gaze traveled southward as his right arm caught her attention; she saw slight abrasions and burns on the inner side of his bicep trailing down toward his splinted forearm and buddy-taped ring finger and pinkie. Small scratches dotted his left arm and cheek as well.

"Oh my God, Manny! What happened?!" she whispered.

"Excuse me, ma'am? I need to speak with you. Preferably in private," the orderly stated.

"I'm sorry - what?" she asked. Her blood was pulsing in her ears, making his words indistinguishable.

"No! Mom! I need to be there!" Manny shouted.

"Wait - hold on - what's going on? And really, whatever you need to tell me can be said in front if him," she nodded towards Manny.

"Ma'am, I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation. You see -"

"Damn straight I don't! First, I get a distraught phone call from my son, who is currently lying in a hospital bed nursing an array of injuries at -" Angie paused to glance at her watch, "3:38 in the morning. Regardless of that fact, let's reflect upon the idea that I had to fight my way back here to see my own son, and am now being asked to walk away from him to have a conversation about which I'm sure he plays a crucial role?! I don't think so, mister. So, let's go; out with it," Angie finished with a frustrated growl.

"My apologies, ma'am. I was sure someone had filled you in on the basics of the situation, but can now see that I was mistaken," the orderly replied. "My name is Nick, and I'm going to give you a lot of news, so you may want to take a seat," he continued, pointing to the hardback chair to the right of the hospital bed.

"Wait! Mom, I just - I just didn't want you to be mad and I'm sorry I didn't call you and I -"

Before Manny could go any further, Angie moved over to the chair and sat down quickly. Grasping her son's uninjured left hand in her own two hands, Angie rubbed her thumbs over his knuckles as she tried to calm her shaken child. Playing it cool wasn't necessarily easy, but she soon realized that she had to remain calm for her son, who was normally the relaxed one between the two of them.

"Go ahead," she managed to get out, despite the heavy feeling that was starting to creep in around her.

"Well, ma'am, your son was brought in by ambulance just after 2 o'clock this morning after a head on collision with another vehicle. It appears the driver of the other vehicle had been on his way home from the bar and apparently thought he could beat the light. As the light changed, he made his way through the intersection and made contact with your son's vehicle."

As Angie listened to Nick explain the incident, she tried to keep her emotions in check. A large part of her was angry at the other driver, but was soon overcome with relief as she thought about her fully conscious son sitting to her right. Sparing a glance at Manny, she gave him a small smile before lifting their joined hands to her lips. As she lowered their hands back down, Angie was struck with the thought of how his left side remained largely uninjured.

"Where is he now?" she asked, in reference to the elusive driver.

"Already released, Ms. Flynn."

"'Already released?' Who is he, Superman?" Angie ground out angrily.

"No ma'am. The alcohol in his system seemed to have relaxed him to the point that he didn't really tense up at impact. He signed himself out, with minor injuries, into police custody," Nick answered. "Your son has minor injuries as well, but we'd like to keep him overnight for observation due to the head wound and possible concussion. He sustained the head wound upon hitting the side window of the vehicle and the minor lacerations are from shattered glass. The injuries to his right arm are from the airbag and door handle, respectively. The burns and abrasions on his upper arm are a result of the airbag deploying. It also appears your son's hand was caught in the door handle upon impact, causing a phalangeal dislocation," pointing to the slightly discolored pinkie finger, "and fracture of the distal ulna," he finished, pointing to the region where Manny's pinkie met his forearm.

"Okay, so the man that almost killed my son has been tended to medically and legally," Angie noted, but still looked concerned. "What I don't understand is the location of my son's injuries."

Turning to Manny with a raised eyebrow, Angie prodded further.

"I mean, you told me you were planning on being the designated driver for some of the guys tonight, Manny. If I'm not mistaken, those injuries would be inflicted upon someone in the passenger seat. That, and I haven't heard a word about the other boys," Angie concluded.

Manny glanced to where the orderly stood at the foot of his bed, and then lowered his gaze to where his mother still grasped his hand - he squeezed tighter. Closing his eyes, Manny mustered up the courage to look at his mother once more, finally meeting hers with dampness in the blues that threatened to spill over.

"Manny...Who was with you?" Angie implored.

* * *

Comments? Questions? You know where to find me. Otherwise, thanks for the kind words up to this point. I'm by no means an expert, but I'm glad I've fallen back into writing.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Author's Note: Flashback chapter. Some questions get answered, but that only sets up more to be asked. As usual, my request remains the same: read and write! You guys are fantastic!

* * *

Walking to the curb, Manny opened the door of the sedan and climbed in. The rain had just started to taper off when he'd made his phone call asking for a lift. The clouds had rolled in toward the end of the game, and the grey skies had poured for awhile immediately following the game. Otherwise, it had held off most of the evening which made for a nice outing for Manny and the boys.

"Thanks for giving me a ride home tonight; I just didn't want to call Mom after I had already told her I wouldn't do anything stupid," Manny started as he clicked his seat belt into place. Relaxing into the seat, he brought his left hand up to rub his eyes and rested his right arm on the door's armrest.

With a smirk, his companion glanced over just in time to catch the tail end of a yawn and slow blink.

"Yeah, well, I'll let you in on a little secret; everyone's done it. The smartest part is when you know that you can't drive home."

"Really? This is coming from you? You probably didn't touch a drop of alcohol until you were, like, what? 30 – Minimum?" Manny snorted.

"Maybe," came the cryptic reply. "But the fact remains that when it comes to your mother, sometimes you just have to do whatever it is you want to do and deal with the consequences later. Plus, she's actually the one I was referring to when I said that everyone's done it. She just acts all tough because she doesn't want you to make the same mistakes she did..."

"Yeah, 'just do it and deal with the consequences.' When are you going to heed your own advice, huh?" Manny chuckled as he glanced over to the left in time to see the driver feign a look of confusion, but then roll his eyes.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Manny murmured.

The smirk returned to his companion's face as Manny just smiled brightly.

"I get the feeling that the topic of conversation changed, not so subtly might I add. And let me just say, I have no idea what you're talking about," the older man replied.

"No idea? Really? Okay, sure. Keep telling yourself that," Manny rolled his own eyes as he replied.

The older man glanced in the rear view mirror before facing the younger passenger as he rolled to a stop at the stop sign. Raising an eyebrow, he considered his words carefully before continuing. "As you get older, you realize that the goal of life is different for everyone. One person may settle down, get married, and have 2.5 kids, while another may live for the fame and money. Life's not one-size-fits-all. It's not like I didn't give the commitment thing a go; I just realized that maybe life has something else in store for me," he finished as he started to pull away from the stop sign.

Silence passed between the two men as they continued through the downtown streets of Vancouver. Honestly, Manny thought, would it really be that bad? The two people he had in mind obviously weren't stupid, so what the hell was the problem? But as the silence grew between them, Manny took a moment to think about his own life.

Granted, he was young enough for it to still be acceptable that he was uncertain about the direction his life was headed, but that didn't mean he hadn't been trying to figure it all out. When he thought about his own mother, he realized that just because her life consisted of her career and raising him, it didn't necessarily mean she hadn't wanted something different. She had always managed to balance the professional and personal sides of her life. It wasn't always easy, but maybe it was about deciding who and what were worth it.

"The problem," his companion spoke again, "is that it isn't always about how much you want to be with someone. You can care about them too much. Sometimes you end up caring so much that you want to protect them – because they're worth it. And unfortunately, you start to wonder if maybe the best way to protect them is to guard them from yourself, too."

Manny furrowed his brow. He'd always understood that his own mother had built a protective fortress around herself, especially after the various men in her life left. At a young age, and even now, he didn't understand why his father had left his mother, but as he got older he often wondered if his mother ended some of those relationships long before any of them had physically left.

Pulling up to a red light, Manny let out another yawn as he let his thoughts pass from the deep waters of personal relationships to the evening's activities. He had just gotten home when an old high school friend suggested a group get together to use up some of the family's season tickets and go watch the Lions play. Being home on semester break, Manny thought it would be a great chance to catch up. Life with a mother as a cop rarely made having a social life easy in high school, but he still kept in touch with a few people.

The game had been fun, and the boys had decided to go blow off steam at Doolin's before heading home following its conclusion. After a quick text to his mom to let her know he'd be home late, he offered to be the designated driver when they all wanted to hit the pub. Shortly after watching the guys order their third round, Manny found he had been suckered into shooting back a few expensive shots in an effort to impress a pretty girl at the end of the bar, effectively blowing his DD theory out of the water.

Oh well, he had thought to himself. After awhile, he found himself getting tired and opted to head for home when the rest of the guys were piled into a cab to head in the opposite direction toward Aura, a nightclub that was too much of an adventure for his tastes at 1:30AM. Manny decided he'd try calling for a ride home from a trusted friend before spending what little was left in his wallet on a cab. After all, he was in no condition to drive home at this time of night. Fortunately, it didn't take much cajoling.

Manny couldn't help but wonder for a moment if his mother had ever been like those girls back at the pub. No, he thought, she hadn't had the time - hell, she'd still basically been a kid when she found out he was on the way. And his father hadn't really been around much. Well, more like, ever.

As a kid, he never thought too much about it. Mom never let a moment pass by without taking time to let him know he was her number one priority. Plus, it kinda helped that she'd had some decent men in her life to help set some good examples for him.

But part of him couldn't help but wonder what had happened between his mom and dad. Mom never offered much detail, other than to note that it had been complicated. And while part of him had been tempted to press further when she finally told him his father's name, or when his father offered to send him abroad, he didn't want to disrespect his mother's efforts to...what? Protect him? He wasn't really sure.

"What's on your mind, kid?"

The question broke his concentration. He turned away from the fresh green glow ahead to look at his companion as they pulled away from the stoplight.

"I don't know. Sometimes I just wonder about Mom, you know? She acts all tough, when you and I both know that she's really vulnerable. I wonder -"

Manny was cut off by the screeching of tires on the wet pavement and blinding lights pointed in his direction. Gripping the door handle tightly, he barely had enough time to register what was happening before hearing the sickening crunch of twisting metal.

"Oscar!" He shouted, barely able to hear his own voice over the crash.

Bringing his left arm up to protect himself from the pellets of glass raining toward him, he struggled against the force of impact. Tiny shards of glass stung the left side of his face as he gripped the door handle tighter to help brace himself against the force of a three-ton vehicle unexpectedly slamming into the smaller automobile. Suddenly, he felt in his wrist give way as he let out a muffled yelp just before his head lurched to the right and his temple made contact with a sickening *thwack*, effectively rendering him unconscious.

* * *

I know what you're thinking: "Wait - what?! {o.O} That's it?! No, no, no! Tell me more!"

Right? Don't worry. It's coming. I promise. It's just going to take a minute...or five...or, you know, awhile.

I'm sorry! *ducks under desk*


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: They're not mine.**

**Author's Note: Pay attention closely, this one bounces back and forth momentarily...part flashback/part current, but the page breaks should help. I wasn't sure how to write this one, so this is what the final result was.**

**Again, you guys are fantastic! Your interest and praise is wonderful, and you're all so amazingly talented, too, so keep up the great work.**

* * *

Manny had once wondered about the effects of traumatic brain injuries and how such incidents could cause people to have absolutely no recollection of certain events. More specifically, he thought of how terribly difficult it must be trying to recall lost memories, and possibly even relearn simple skills and facts in order to function independently. But if Manny were being truly honest right now, he would tell you just how envious he was of those victims as he began to relay the his story.

* * *

The first thing Manny noticed as he regained consciousness was the steady throb of pain pulsing in his head as it beat in time with his heart. A glow of blue and red lights danced across his hazy field of vision as they mingled with distant shouts penetrating the ringing in his ears. From his position, Manny struggled to see out of the fractured windshield of the small sedan. The front end of a large SUV was fused to the front end of the driver's side as making it hard to distinguish where one vehicle ended and the other began. Attempting to not make any sudden movements, Manny fought against the discomfort until he could bring his line of sight further to the left to turn more fully toward his companion.

"Os…," he attempted weakly, coughed in attempt to clear his throat, and tried again. "Oscar?"

His vision finally cleared enough for him to focus on the older man slumped over the steering wheel. The stillness of his body in opposition to the chaos surrounding the vehicle left Manny silent with shock as he tried to detect even the slightest of movements. Through blurred vision, the younger passenger could just make out the right side of Oscar's face, eerily void of any expression.

Manny continued staring unblinking at his still form when he suddenly overtaken by the urge to gasp a shuddering breath as his lungs cried for air, so wrapped up in the scene before him. Just as he reminded himself to maintain the flow of air in and out, he heard a voice cut through the din once more.

"Hey! Hey! Can you hear me? C'mon, kid! Work with me. Tell me what hurts!"

Unsure of the strength of his own voice, Manny barely mustered the resolve to return a reply. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, he finally found himself able to respond. "Take – take him first," he tried.

"What?" came the muffled reply.

"I – I said, take him first. Please. Just – please," he pleaded, finally drawing his eyes away from Oscar's motionless body and to the man sticking his head in the passenger window.

"We're working on it, but right now I need you to just focus on me. We're going to do what we can to get you both out of here as fast as we can, but I need to you do something for me. Can you reach your seat belt?" the paramedic asked. "If you can, I need you to reach over and do that. Don't worry about your friend, we're doing the best we can, but I need you to worry about yourself right now." As the paramedic gave him instructions, he also took the time to gently secure a neck brace in place as a precaution.

Glancing down carefully, Manny brought his hand down to unfasten the seat belt. The throbbing in his head was only getting worse and he noticed that it was getting difficult to see again. Hearing it click, he pulled the belt away from his waist and gingerly lifted his right arm through the straps so as not to jostle the rapidly swelling joints.

"Good, great. You're doing a fine job," he praised the frightened passenger as he cautiously opened the car door. "On the count of three, I'm going to help you to your feet so I can escort you to that stretcher over there," he stated while gesturing to a partially reclined stretcher about 5 feet away.

"One; Two; Three!" the paramedic chanted, and regardless of counting with the paramedic, Manny still hissed in pain upon reaching the end of the count. Upon reaching the stretcher, he gently allowed himself to be lowered down while another paramedic began to splint his right arm. Resting his head back, Manny struggled against drooping eyelids, quietly muttering to himself, "Call her. Please. She needs to know."

* * *

Blinking back tears, Manny let out a trembling sigh in an attempt to build up the strength to meet his mother's face. Finally gaining the courage to lift his eyes, he looked from the orderly to his mother. Taking in the expression on her face, Manny made the decision immediately; he would have given anything not to be able to remember any details from the accident so long as he didn't have to relive the experience through the pained look in his mother's eyes.

Despite the chair beneath her, Angie still felt like the ground had dropped out from beneath her feet. Uncertain as to whether her legs could hold her, she opted to remain seated as she tried to process the information that her son had just shared. Slowly closing her eyes, she felt her son's hand wrap around her own and squeeze gently as she struggled to find the strength to vocalize the thoughts flooding her mind.

"How – What – where is he?" she asked, finally opting for the simplest question to for him to answer.

With a deep sigh, the orderly looked from the young man in the hospital bed to the clearly distressed woman by his side. "As we speak, he is currently in the operating room. He was brought in immediately following your son, but as I'm sure you can imagine, his injuries are far more extensive. Is there anyone we can call on Mr. Vega's behalf, ma'am? Does he have any family nearby?"

Angie stared quietly at the curtain behind the man in scrubs, before finally making eye contact with him once again. "I guess – I guess his father…and, well, I suppose his step-mother, too. Why wasn't anyone notified before now?" she queried.

"Quite simply, we had no way to notify anyone other than you, ma'am. While his ID and badge informed us that he was a detective, your son had already contacted you. As his next of kin, you would be notified first, regardless, and then the decision would be left up to you as to whether or not you wished for us to continue notifying others," the orderly stated.

Angie dropped her gaze down to her hands as they were currently wearing a hole in her jeans. Noticing the nervous habit, she willed her hands to stop before returning her gaze upward. Swallowing deeply, she shifted her body toward her son, whispering quietly, "It's not your fault, baby. It will be okay." To be honest, Angie wasn't quite sure her consolation was more for him or for herself. Then she brought her eyes back toward Nick.

"Who would I need to speak with regarding his condition? And when can I – I'm sorry, we – when can we see him?" she asked.

"I can see about checking with the surgeons in the operating theatre, but I imagine it will be at least a couple hours. In the mean time, I am going to see about possibly relocating your son to another floor so you are both more comfortable, if you would like. If there is someone who becomes available to come and discuss his condition with you, you'll know immediately."

"That would probably be best, thank you," Angie replied as she tried to remain calm as she watched the orderly exit the makeshift room. She wasn't sure how well she could cope with waiting for such an extended period of time to see her best friend, but she had to remind herself that he was in good hands and the surgeons would be doing the best they could to bring him back to her in one piece.

"Mom?" Manny's voice broke through her thoughts.

"Yeah, baby?" she replied, turning to look at her son. If the look on her face matched that of her son's then there was no denying that she was terrified.

"I'm – I'm scared, Mom. They wouldn't let me see him when they brought him in, and I don't know –,"

Angie cut her son off before he could continue; "Manny, honey, they had to make sure you were all right, too. They can't just let you get up and try to help; they're the professionals, this is what they do. I'm sure he'll be fine. Maybe someone or something has been looking out for us tonight."

Silence passed between them for a moment before Manny looked back at his mother. "Do you really believe that?" he asked.

Waiting a moment before answering, Angie decided that she'd remain honest with him like she had always been. "No, but Oscar would. And we have to believe that for him until he's able to do it himself." If there was one thing she could say about Oscar, it was his unwavering belief in something greater than himself. God, spirituality, whatever – he'd always remained true to idea that whatever happened was meant to be.

With a large sigh, Angie turned away from her son just as a nurse came through the curtain with a smile and cheerfully informed them that her son would be relocated to the 4th floor shortly. She then took a moment to inform them that he would be situated into a room across the hall from another room currently being reserved for Detective Vega's arrival following surgery.

* * *

After helping the nurses get Manny comfortable and attached to the necessary machines to monitor his healing for his overnight stay, Angie decided she'd go for a walk to clear her head once he fell into a restless slumber. Sneaking one last glance at her son before pulling the door closed gently behind her, she was surprised again by how small he looked.

It was almost immediately and simultaneously that she was enveloped in a state of wonder at the condition he was in. Granted, he was nursing minor injuries and still very shaken, but in good health overall. Praying to any god that could hear her prayer, she took a moment to reflect upon the situation that lay before her. Firstly, she was more than thankful that her son had grown to trust her closest friend and partner, in addition to avoiding catastrophic injury; Manny's approval of Oscar meant the world to her. Just as equally, she mentally expressed her anger and trepidation as her heart was held in suspension while waiting for any news regarding said partner.

Making her way slowly back in the direction from which she'd started, Angie slowed to a stop before turning to her right into a dimly lit room instead of to her son's room to the left. Moving toward the window, she looked out at the city below and found herself envious of the people below. Sleeping, eating, and just being without a care in the world as if life itself didn't hang in such a precarious balance.

Angie knew that she should be using her time wisely to call a number of people, but couldn't bring herself to do so. It was almost as if the reality of the situation would only burrow itself deeper the more people knew of the unpleasant incident – and quite frankly, she'd be damned if she was going to let anyone dissuade her of the illusion that she had carefully created.

Turning away, Angie pulled her phone out of her pocket as she fell into the chair facing the room's private bathroom with her back to the window. She looked to her left to see a number of plugs, wires, tubes, and outlets on the wall waiting almost anxiously to be utilized. Rubbing her eyes, Angie pushed deeper, seeking some sort of pain to remind her that this was all real.

Pulling her hands away from her face, she wiped them on her thighs before picking her phone up off of her knee. Turning it on, the glow emanating from the device was nearly blinding in the dark room. Angie stared blankly at the device until the glow timed out, plunging the room into darkness once again. It was only then, in the fresh darkness, that she allowed herself to cry.

* * *

**So, that's it. For now. I'm trying my best to stay with it and update as much as possible, but gosh, you guys are a hungry crowd.**

**As usual: Comments, questions, suggestions are always welcome! Much happiness to you all :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaim****er: I may play around with them every day, but these characters are definitely not mine. I just like to borrow them.**

**Author's Note: Okay, so our beloved Oscar has been largely elusive for the majority of this story. He's still somewhat absent, but definitely more present than before - In a good way? In a bad way? Let me know. That's all you'll get from me.**

**P.S. - This chapter includes quite a bit of medical terminology, but I explain it for the most part. I am not a doctor, nor affiliated with one; if anything, I love to do research. I did the best I could without drowning you guys.**

* * *

The sun was dawning on the city and casting shadows against the far wall by the time Angie heard the faint sounds of quiet conversation outside of the hospital room door. Checking the phone in her lap for the time, she noted a number of missed calls from her colleagues at the precinct as well the time.

7:13AM

She had been silently sitting in the chair for almost 4 hours, waiting with nerves on edge for someone, anyone, to come tell her anything about her partner's condition. As unbearable as it was, she knew that she would have been willing to wait forever so long as it meant that no one would break the silence with news of the absolute worst possible outcome.

As the door was gently pushed open further, Angie looked upon the intruder with an exhausted expression drawn across her face. Looking back down to where her fingers were clenched together in her lap, knuckles white, she whispered softly, "Don't. Please."

Walking further into the room, the man came to a stop at her side before gently placing a light hand on her shoulder. Mentally scoffing about the polished toe of the dress shoes peeking out just beyond her right knee, the only reason she didn't express her thoughts out loud was due to the cloak of fatigue that had blanketed her entire form. Taking a deep breath, she brought her eyes to the face above her, where she met an expression that could only be described as pity.

"I know this isn't a good time, but we need you."

"A good time?" she mocked. "I can't imagine why you would think that."

"Look, Ang."

"Like I said, please don't. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet. Hell, I don't even know if he's still alive, and you want me to carry on like it's just another day and everything is fine?"

"No, I want you to do your best in horrible circumstances. I want you to let me know so I can understand why you don't report in following a visit to a crime scene. But more than that, I want to be there to comfort and support a friend in need. Is that too much to ask? Not as your superior, but as your friend, Ang."

Smirking mirthlessly, Angie replied, "You don't get to call yourself that. Betty? Yes. Lucas? Yes. You? Don't even think about it," she finished quietly.

"I did what I could to protect you!" Mark whispered harshly. "For years, we protected each other! Trusted each other! What changed?" With eyes narrowed, Mark stared angrily down at Angie. "Oh, I get it. Is it your turn now; is that what this is about? Payback?"

"It's not about getting even, Mark. It's about finally deciding that there's more to life than looking out for yourself, and lying to those you care about to keep up the pretense. I'm tired of living a lie."

After a moment, Mark spoke quietly. "So…where does that leave us?"

"I don't know," Angie responded weakly.

The seconds crawled by as a heavy silence stretched between them. Finally deciding to break the stillness of the moment, Angie stood and walked toward the doorway. Stopping just short of the doorframe, she paused just long enough to invite the visitor to peek into the room across the hall where Manny was still resting.

Lingering in the entrance to the younger man's room, the two adults stood shoulder to shoulder watching as the patient grimaced as he shifted in his sleep to roll over. Settling back into a fitful sleep, Manny's grimace only faded slightly. Dropping his gaze to the glossy floor beneath his feet, Mark released an audible sigh as he scuffed his shoe over an invisible smudge in the tile.

Bringing his eyes up again, he spoke gently as to not startle his companion; "I'm sorry. Take all the time you need. And if you need anything at all…" he trailed off, knowing that even as she understood the words of his promises, she'd never be able to bring herself to trust them. With a small squeeze of her elbow, he turned and disappeared down the long stretch of hallway to the bay of elevators. From her position, Angie could see him hesitate before calling for the elevator, seeking her out one last time before entering the car. Brushing a hand across her forehead, Angie slipped back into her son's room to continue her wait.

* * *

Faint knocking roused Angie from her restless nap in the uncomfortable chair at Manny's bedside about an hour later. Blinking away the fog, she rubbed her hands over her face and through her hair as an elderly man in blue scrubs entered the room. The man remained still as she stretched her tightened joints and attempted to rid herself of the fogginess clouding her head. Glancing at her watch, she noted it was nearing 8:30AM.

"Ms. Flynn?"

"Yes?" she answered, barely allowing him to finish.

"My name is Dr. Thomas Kirkland, and I'm the chief surgeon that operated on your friend, Detective Vega? I've been told that you've been awaiting some answers for quite some time, and I'm sure you have many questions for me, as well." Nodding toward Manny, he returned his gaze to her and suggested they move into the hall.

Quietly exiting the room, Dr. Kirkland offered her a seat just outside the doorway before sitting in an identical chair across from her. With the door partially ajar, Angie stole a glimpse into the room across the hall, but was only able to make out the backs of a few nurse's fluidly moving around an obscured hospital bed as they worked quickly to set up an extensive system of monitors and machines leading to the new tenant.

"Ms. Flynn? As I stated before, I'm sure you have many questions, but I think would be best if I could extensively fill you in on your partner's condition. Once I have provided you with that information, I will answer any and all questions you have to the best of my ability. In the mean time, I will attempt to simplify any medical terminology that may only confuse the issue more," the surgeon explained.

Angie simply nodded and attempted to offer him her complete and undivided attention; a difficult feat considering her longing to charge into the room across from her and see her partner with her own two eyes.

"As you know," the surgeon began, "your partner was involved in a traumatic motor vehicle accident in which he was the primary victim. It appears that the angle of impact and force in which contact was made managed to create dismal circumstances for Mr. Vega. He narrowly escaped the wreckage alive and has widespread damage to the left side of his body. I'll be honest with you, ma'am. The next forty-eight hours will be the most crucial to his recovery, if he makes it through them."

As Angie nervously wringing her hands, she attempted to listen to the surgeon as he began to give explicit details regarding the extent of the injuries littering her partner's body; her heart perpetually sinking southward toward her stomach.

"Once we're past that window, the recovery will be unpleasant process for our patient and his support system. Upon impact, he fractured several bones in his body that may take a fair amount of time to heal. Upon making contact with steering wheel, Mr. Vega suffered a fracture to the left anterior wall of his maxillary sinus – or his cheekbone – which extended upward into the orbital wall surrounding his eye socket. Upon further inspection of a laceration above his left eyebrow, we were able to locate a handful of stress fractures along the lower region of his frontal bone. I cannot say for certain how the impact would have affected Mr. Vega's cognitive abilities, but we'll know more when he regains consciousness."

The last statement alone was enough to blur Angie's vision with unshed tears. Regardless of what the doctor had just told her, she could not bring herself to accept the possibility that Oscar could lose one of his most valuable assets. Between the two of them, she was all heart and emotion, while Oscar had been the voice of reason; more appropriately, her voice of reason. He kept her passionate and foolish impulses in check, while she brought him out of his own head and inspired him to be human.

Dr. Kirkland continued; "It appears Mr. Vega's left arm was tucked in toward his side at the moment of impact, which caused the proximal head of both the radius and ulna to shatter upon contact. The elbow itself is intact; however, the fractures in such close proximity to the joint complicate matters. While in surgery, our efforts were focused on minimizing subsequent damage to the nerves and soft tissue surrounding the bone as we inserted a plate and screws, but there is no way to know the extent to which the limb will be affected until a later point in time."

As the surgeon took a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing, Angie was truly alarmed at the amount of effort put in to rebuilding the human form. And not just any human form, but Oscar Vega's human form. She was startled by the thought that he may never be able to function as the friend and partner she trusted without reservation.

"The angle of Mr. Vega's elbow at impact was subsequently the source another injury as the collision caused one of his three fractured ribs to shift inward and puncture his lung. As the pressure in the pleural space surrounding his lung displaced the pressure within it, the lung collapsed on his way in to us this morning.

The first priority upon getting Mr. Vega into the operating theatre was to seal the wound and restore appropriate pressure in the chest cavity through thoracentesis. Upon seeing Mr. Vega, you will notice a tube protruding from under his armpit. This tube is responsible for equalizing the pressure within his chest while the puncture in his lung heals. When the wound has sufficiently healed, the tube can be removed."

Tension extended between the two figures as they sat in painful silence, only to be broken by two nurses stepping out into the hall and continuing down toward the nurse's station down the corridor. An unsettling stillness lingered for a moment more until the surgeon calmly got to his feet. Peering down at the worried woman before him, he took the chance to take in her appearance. The dampness in her eyes and the lines drawn upon her face were signs of defeat that he had witnessed a number of times in his tenure as a trauma surgeon. However, beneath the layer of doubt and anguish, he was immediately drawn in by a glimmer of a spark in her deep blue eyes.

"I know it has been a large amount of information for you to take in, Ms. Flynn. Are there any questions I can answer for you at this time?" he queried.

The conviction with which she replied nearly floored him as she stood up tall, poised to enter the hospital room of his patient, and inquired, "Yeah. How soon can I take him home?"

* * *

**There you have it,Ch. 5 on the books.**

**You guys are great; I appreciate you sticking with me. **

**Question: how long are you willing to stick around? Your answers will help me figure out how to organize this project.**

**Keep up the reading, and more importantly the amazing writing that you all do. You are all far more talented than I. You guys are fantastic!**

**Much happiness!****  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: If the show were mine, there would be no doubts about its fate. Oh, you would like 24/7 Motive? Yeah, duh.**

**Author's Note: THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! You are all fantastic and wonderful people. FYI: This chapter is very introspective, so you'll get some insight into Angie's thoughts.**

* * *

Slowly pushing the door open, Angie stepped softly into the darkened room. The blinds had been drawn closed to aid in permitting the room's occupant to rest in as much comfort as the sedatives would allow. The patient, buried amidst a meticulous network of wires and tubes, lay unaware of the vigilant guard of the gifted medical personnel. Angie blinked back thick tears as she reminded herself that the individual was still the same man that she called her best friend; no matter the extent of physical damage, his spirit and mind could never be fully distorted beyond recognition – could it?

Stepping further into the room and toward the end of the bed, Angie brought her hands up to wrap her fingers around the railing tightly, as if she were physically clinging to her frayed hope. Squeezing her knuckles tighter, the digits' pallor steadily grew to resemble that of the stark walls gradually closing in around her. Angie allowed herself to release a shuddering breath that she had just now realized she had been holding as she mentally inventoried the paraphernalia that assisted in keeping her partner intact.

As her eyes climbed Oscar's still form, Angie was emotionally torn by the sight before her. The only movement in the room was the steady rise and fall of his chest beating in time with the ventilator as it forced fresh air into his lungs, followed by its systematic expiration a moment later. A long tube, spotted with discharge, protruded from a wound under his left armpit surrounded by a large patch of gauze. Small electrical leads were littered about his partially bruised and exposed chest connecting to a wide array of monitors at the head of the slightly elevated bed.

Gently suspended away from his side, his left arm was concealed from his knuckles to his bicep, stopping just short of the shoulder with the bandage wrapped twice as thick around vicinity of the elbow to support the fractured region. A system of pulleys and weights aided in keeping his arm poised in traction to help avoid further external pressure from his chest and promote healing.

Tracing the sharp line of his mottled purple collar bone, Angie was struck by the barren face near its end. Immediately, she attempted to sort through her own catalog of memories to determine if he had ever willingly shown her his barren face, and she couldn't recall a single occurrence. Momentarily fazed by the stark contrast to her own recollection, she quickly proceeded to commit the unguarded version of his profile to memory, too. The surgeon had mentioned implanting small pieces of hardware to restructure the foundation of facial bones, but she couldn't fathom the average onlooker ever entertaining the possibility of reconstruction.

That didn't stop Angie from wondering about what understated differences she would be able to identify days, months, even years from this moment. She hadn't realized until now how the subtle crevices mapped across his face were so ingrained into her mind until now; from the dimpled furrow of his brow to the pinch at the corner of his eyes when laughed, the notch on the left side of the bridge of his nose to the tease of his lips as he tried to hide a smile. Angie may never have placed a high value in physical appearance before, but God, how she found herself hoping that these nuances would never fade.

Electrical leads attached to Oscar's forehead stretched toward a machine likely in place to monitor brain function in case of signs of hemorrhagic complications. Emanating from a modest incision above his left ear, a small tube was inserted to relieve potential intracranial pressure. In spite of Angie's mental mantra that such measures were likely precautionary, a tiny wave of doubt swept through her as she questioned whether the surgeon had neglected to tell her something. She was momentarily paralyzed with the fear that the friend she valued may have his perceptive and compassionate nature compromised, possibly forever altering him professionally and personally. His sharp wit and inconspicuous intellect, skills so deeply ingrained in him as he managed to disarm unassuming suspects and colleagues alike, could potentially be lost.

So caught up in such a strong longing to experience those quirks again and the possibility that the man she knew could be gone was Angie that she didn't hear the latch of the door click behind her. A hand on her shoulder caused her to spin quickly on her heel to face Betty to her left. Blinking back tears, the red headed doctor stared at the detective lying prone before her and then turned toward her friend to her right. Suddenly, Angie grasped her by the shoulders, crushing Betty to her own frame tightly.

The two women wept quietly for a number of minutes before sniffling as they slowly pulled apart. Pulling a handkerchief from her purse, Betty dabbed her own eyes and then passed the article over to Angie. Looking down to the cloth hanging from her wringing hands, Angie tugged the cuff of her jacket sleeve up to reveal the face of her watch. With a sigh, Angie brought her gaze up to Betty along with her hands to her face to push back her blonde curls.

"I'm so sorry, Ang."

"Yeah," she replied softly. "Thanks."

"I already checked on Manny, who is probably ready to wake up shortly," Betty supplied. "I'm sure once he's lucid, he'll be anxious to see Oscar. I imagine they haven't let him yet."

"No," Angie replied, shaking her head. "Oscar wasn't out of surgery when they ordered Manny to get some rest. I – I'm not sure how – "

"I think this will be good for him," Betty answered her unasked question. "It will help put his mind at ease, especially if you're there. Then, I think you need to take him home to get some rest. Doctor's orders," she finished weakly.

Angie started to argue. "I can't – Mark was here, and he said – "

"I know what he said, Ang," Betty sympathized. "But I also have it on good authority that Lucas has things covered for a few more hours while we await test results and you getting some rest. Mark may occasionally be a jackass, but I don't think he's heartless – especially where one of his own is concerned," she finished before Angie could fight her. "A fresh mind will help professionally, and personally, sweetie."

"Maybe," Angie began hesitantly, and then sighed. "I'm just – I'm just scared; and lost. Confused, frustrated, upset – "

Betty gently grasped Angie's flailing hands, nodding understandingly. "I know, sweetie, I know. But you need rest. If you're going to be of any use to anyone," she paused, looking pointedly in Oscar's direction, "then you need to take care of you, too. Your keeper is a little…unavailable…at the moment," she finished with a slight smile.

Begrudgingly, Angie had to admit that Betty was right. She was of no use to anyone if she let herself get worn out or distracted. While her head rationalized the wise doctor's advice, a large part of her spirit felt guilty as if she were giving up if she left willingly. Nevertheless, walking away was exactly what she needed to do, if only temporarily. Angie had never been fond of the decisiveness and finality of goodbyes. While she had initiated a number of them in her past; in reality, what little control she exhibited in those resolutions had provided only minimal comfort in the end.

Rounding the end of the bed toward Oscar's uninjured side, Angie carefully trailed her fingertips across the backside of Oscar's right hand, cautiously avoiding the freshly attached IV. Tracing the road map of veins, her right pinkie brushed over the bony prominences of his knuckles and danced over a faint scar on his own little finger before linking through it with her own.

Betty was struck by the unwavering commitment she witnessed in Angie as the woman's lips gently ghosted across his forehead in a soft vow of support and imminent return. The fight for Oscar Vega's life, the doctor decided, would not be easy, but she'd be damned if it wasn't worth it.

* * *

**Comments/Questions/Suggestions always welcome.**

**I am so truly sorry about keeping you hanging. My new job equals new headaches as well as new opportunities, but you guys are wonderful for bearing with me. Thank you for being so amazing.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Author's Note: Okay. I'm not going to lie. I'm still reeling from the finale.**

* * *

Angie sighed as she rolled over to sneak a glance at the bedside clock. The red glow burned into her vision amidst the darkened room. 3:52AM. She couldn't get up quite yet; she had promised Betty that she would attempt to rest, and she had barely fallen asleep 3 hours ago as various memories assaulted her mind.

Granted, she had made that promise nearly five days ago. Angie had since devised a plan and settled into a routine almost as soon as she escorted her son from the hospital's grounds. She would rise early, and visit her partner until it was time to head into the precinct. On her way into work, she would stop by the gym to grab a quick shower and change her clothes, getting ready for the day much like she would at home.

Her plan had worked flawlessly; Betty assumed she was getting her required rest, while Manny was under the pretense that her early mornings were spent at the precinct covering the workload of two people. Her evenings followed a similar course as she would head for home at a decent hour; in reality, she spent her evenings huddling under a lamp in her partner's hospital room studying an assortment of case files and running ideas with her silent partner. One day – she convinced herself – one day, Vega would answer her as if nothing had ever changed.

Lying in bed, she recalled the day almost a week ago that her son had been released from the hospital. He had begged her to visit Oscar prior to leaving. She had just signed Manny's discharge papers around noon after the attending physician had been in to discuss the potential symptoms and side effects of concussions with her son. Angie could tell by the look on Manny's face that he was hardly listening, more intent on visiting his injured friend across the hall. Fortunately, the doctor's visit was brief and Manny was able to venture into the other room as quickly as his battered body would carry him.

Moving softly into Oscar's room, Manny had stopped in the doorway simply taking inventory of the scene that lay before him. Machines, bandages, tubes, wires; the combination of which were upsetting, even to a typically unaffected young man like Manny. He was hardly unemotional, but he had grown and matured quickly as a child in order to act as if he wasn't bothered by his mother's lifestyle – personal and professional.

Eventually moving in to the room, Betty had stepped toward Angie in order to allow Manny closer access to Oscar's uninjured side. Sitting in the recently vacated seat, Manny had hesitantly reached toward Oscar's hand before settling his own across Oscar's knuckles, carefully avoiding the IV that was positioned in the back of the right hand. Blinking back tears, he glanced over to his mother and Betty before returning his gaze back to Oscar's still form.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

The softness alone struck Angie as she watched her son with her best friend, immediately in stark contrast to the numerous interactions the two had enjoyed in the past. She recalled several memories where these men had shared a laugh at her expense, or even rolled their eyes simultaneously when she may have irritated them. It was amazing how similar the two most important men in her life truly were – or maybe it was just her being the common factor.

Even if the two men were to share a moment like that again tomorrow, it would still be too far away, she remembered thinking to herself at the time. Because, unfortunately, tomorrow was too far away for her taste. She had spent half the night twisting and turning in her sheets, begging for tomorrow to come sooner. Lying awake had only slowed the crawl of the minutes even further, she decided, but she couldn't help herself.

Arising from the bed, Angie quietly made her way into the bathroom to freshen up and assemble a respectable outfit for the day. While it was still dark and Manny lay asleep in the next bedroom, she decided now was as good a time as any to start the day.

* * *

No one had stopped her in the hall as she strode with purpose towards Oscar's room, but she suspected that had more to do with the head nurse on duty. The nurse behind the counter had been the same nurse to inform them about Oscar receiving a room across the hall from Manny following his surgery. She had spent a couple minutes watching the patient and mother sympathetically that night, curiously attempting to decipher the connection between these two and her other patient as she checked Manny's vital signs prior to transferring him upstairs.

Sliding into the partially ajar door, Angie lightly pushed on the door to close it softly behind her. The blinds were partially open, allowing a small sliver of golden light to cascade into the room and dance across Oscar's midsection. The left arm that had been held tight in traction in days before had been lowered to rest carefully at his side, while the tube to drain possible fluids away from his brain had been removed as well.

Releasing a small sigh of relief, Angie quietly moved the visitor's chair closer to Oscar's side before claiming a seat. She rubbed her palms nervously down the thighs of her jean clad legs before resting her arm next to his and linking their pinkie fingers. The small finger had become a touchstone of sorts, a simple reminder that he was still present in her life. What started as the conscious effort to have her own heartbeat and warmth fortify and strengthen his own had since become an unconscious representation of the bond between the two friends.

It shouldn't have surprised her; she was typically the one that initiated contact between the two of them, apart from the occasional guiding hand at her back or helpful hand. On the other hand, she was regularly reaching for him in teasing motions or seeking comfort; constant reminders to herself that he had chosen to put up with her, never questioning her own propensity for physical contact for the comfort of his own personal space.

Folding her hand neatly beneath her chin, she rested her head atop the hand with a quirk of her lips. "Hey, partner. Getting any sleep in this place?"

A beat of silence passed before she continued, "I know. It's hard when they wake you every hour to check your monitors. I never could stand it; cooped up in a room with nothing to do but stare at the walls and the same three channels on the television set. How do you do it?"

"You have more patience than I do," she replied. "Think they'll serve you anything good for breakfast?" she asked. A moment later, she puffed out a laugh, almost as if she had heard him answer. "I know. What am I even saying, right? Silly me."

A beep to her left startled her as it drew her attention away from her partner's face to the screen. Quickly glancing back toward Oscar's face, she jumped when she noticed his head shift back slightly against the pillow. Another beep, followed in rapid succession by another, caused her to peer intently at his profile as she searched for any other signs of life.

Suddenly, his body tensed and his head pushed further back into the pillow beneath his head before he began to convulse. The beeping to her left persisted as a nurse burst into the room and checked the monitor. Running back toward the door, the nurse paged a fellow colleague nearby, "Code blue!"

"What's going on? What's happening?" Angie asked.

"Ma'am, I'm going to need you to step out into the hallway," the first nurse stated as her associate ran into the room.

"What's happening?" Angie repeated.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Please move away from the patient," the second nurse replied abruptly.

Moving toward the far corner of the room, Angie refused to leave as she was stricken by the fear of the unknown. She may not know what exactly was happening, but she knew that she'd be damned if they were going to ask her to leave. Observing carefully, she quickly wondered how their idleness was aiding Oscar's condition.

As her associate kept watchful eye over Oscar's trembling body and the monitor above him, the first nurse came toward Angie's retreated form. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I am sure you are wondering why we are not helping your friend. Mr. Vega is experiencing a seizure at the moment, and with any luck it will pass momentarily. Unfortunately, the nature of seizures makes them dangerous to intervene other than to make sure he does not present any further threat to his already injured body."

The convulsions dissipated nearly as soon as they had begun. Each nurse began the task of insuring that the seizure that racked his beaten body had not caused any further disruption to his healing. As one nurse checked his prior injuries, making quick work of securing his bandages and the chest tube that was still in place, the other nurse tinkered with the monitor above Oscar's head.

Angie slowly made her way out of her protected corner toward the right side of Oscar's bed. The nurse attending to his wounds smiled politely at Angie, nodding her approval for Angie to reclaim her seat at his bedside. Reaching out her right hand, Angie paused for a moment before flipping her own hand over and slipping it beneath his still palm and gripping tightly.

Releasing a shuddering breath, she closed her moist blue eyes and felt large tears trail down her cheeks. The commotion had distracted her long enough that she hadn't realized she'd been ready to cry, though the thought didn't surprise her at all. Attempting to calm herself, Angie kept her eyes closed for a moment before gaining the courage to reopen them and stare at their interlocked hands.

All of a sudden, Angie could have sworn she felt a flash of movement across the palm of her hand. Whipping her head toward her partner's profile, she briefly caught the slight movement of eyes flickering beneath the surface of his downed lashes. Slowly, Oscar's eyelids began to flutter as he attempted to resurface and restore focus.

Squeezing his hand tightly once more, Angie brought her right hand up to enclose around their joined hands before moving her right hand towards his face. Softly caressing his stubbled cheek, his eyes closed for a moment before reopening and settling his gaze upon their hands joined. Furrowing his brow, a flash of pain flickered across his face before Oscar's eyes trailed upward to meet her own.

With a gentle smile, Angie whispered softly, "Hey, partner…."

Letting loose a deep breath of his own, Oscar closed his eyes. As the nurses began to retreat, the first continued into the hall while the second woman paused in the doorway to look back at the occupants of the room. She spoke after softly clearing her throat, drawing Angie's attention toward the door; "Thank you, and ma'am? And I apologize about before…. Please let us know if you need anything else."

Angie nodded appreciatively before returning her attention toward Oscar's softly breathing figure. Without opening his eyes, he squeezed her hand within his own. Eyes opening once again, he tiredly looked toward Angie.

"How you doing, there, partner?" Angie asked.

"Tired, I think," came the reply.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Pain meds?" she solicited. "Honestly, you say the word and it's yours."

"Sleep. And I think I could handle a sip of water," Oscar spoke quietly.

Angie smirked to herself. "I can do that. Don't go anywhere," Angie joked gently. "Are you sure you don't need any meds?" she asked as she rose from her chair to retrieve a cup of water from the sink.

Furrowing his brow, Oscar contemplated the question for a moment before looking to her with a questioning glance. "Why? I feel fine, although my head kind of hurts," he stated.

Halfway between the hospital bed and the bathroom, Angie paused and turned around to face her partner. "Why?" she repeated. "You feel 'fine'? Really? Oscar -" she stopped herself. Drawing back toward his left side, she gently squeezed his left fingers where they emerged from his cast. "Oscar?"

Slowly turning his head toward her, he glanced down toward his hip where she was standing.

"Oscar? Can you feel this?" Angie asked as she squeezed his fingers even tighter.

"Ang," he spoke hoarsely. "Ang. I can't – I can't feel anything."

* * *

***Dun Dun DUUUUN* I'm sorry. I know, life is cruel and I'm not much better. But if it makes you feel any better, I'm already well into the next chapter. **

**You know what's fantastic? You are. Yes, you are most fantaaaastic [read with accent]! Honest to goodness, all of you. Thank you. You make this so easy that it almost writes itself - almost. In fact, I'm at that point as a writer that I honestly am on the edge of my seat not only waiting to read your input for me, but also what you write (so beautifully), AND what I am going to write - I always surprise myself. Weird, right? o.O**

**Again, comments/questions/suggestions are always welcome and always appreciated. If there's something you've got to say, please do so.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Still not mine, despite numerous efforts.**

**Author's note: Wow, you guys are amazing. Thank you for putting up with this...this...whatever this project is. And it has come to my attention that I need to start supplying you guys with boxes of Kleenex. I am truly sorry.**

* * *

Staring blankly at the casted arm to his left, Oscar seemed to be a million miles away in that moment. As his eyes moistened, she was taken aback by how vulnerable he looked. Crouching down beside the hospital bed, Angie brought her hand up to his chin as she attempted to draw his attention toward her.

Oscar met her gaze with a soft sigh. "I'm sure it's just – just a side effect of sorts. I'll be fine, Ang. You'll see."

Angie fixed him with a sympathetic look, quickly looking at the floor between her feet and back up to him. "Oscar…" she whispered softly, meanwhile tenderly running her hand down and across his midsection.

As she moved her hand, she carefully watched the expression on his face while he watched her hand move slowly away from his chin and down his chest. Angie carefully noted how his breathing changed as he went from being calm to vaguely anxious as her hand swept down past his sternum. Quickly, she stopped her ministrations.

"I'm sorry. Does that hurt?"

His breath hitched before answering her softly, "Uh – no. I – I can't really feel anything there, that's all."

"Here?" she asked, flexing her fingers.

"Yeah – I was fine until about there, then nothing," he spoke softly as he brought his eyes up to meet hers. "Hey…" he spoke again, "Partner, it could be anything."

"Anything?" Angie questioned. "Oscar. Look – don't do this."

"Do what?" Oscar replied, feigning innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm sure it will all be fine. Maybe we should start by talking to the doctor, yeah?"

Sighing heavily, Angie pushed herself up to a standing position while running a trembling hand through her blonde curls. "I'll just – I'll go see if I can find someone," hitching a thumb over her shoulder toward the door, before turning and exiting the room.

Watching the door close softly behind her as Angie exited, Oscar let his own eyes fall closed as he took a shuddering breath. He knew he had not completely fooled Angie, but he had played the part well enough that she would give him a few brief moments of respite. While she went in search of a doctor, he could use those minutes to recompose himself.

He wasn't lying when he told her his head hurt. So maybe he hadn't been entirely forthcoming about the extent of the pain; the persistent drumming in his head had yet to stop since he awoke. Regardless, given his current situation of not being able to feel anything from the chest down made him appreciative of the pain pulsing behind his eyelids.

Oscar also knew Angie well enough to know that she had been watching him during her experiment earlier. He had attempted to school his features, mainly hoping she wouldn't notice if she had accidentally hurt him knowing that she'd never forgive herself. What he hadn't counted on was the jolt of energy he'd feel when her fingertips touched him. Prior to the accident, he'd always chalked up the feeling to static electricity when she reached for him in the past. Now, he wasn't too sure.

Opening his eyes, Oscar mentally inventoried the bandages and accessories littering his battered body. Reaching toward his head with his right hand, he noted the leads still attached to his temples, and then slowly moved his hand to trail across his face. The left side hurt considerably more than the right as he detected small sutures beneath across his cheekbone.

Moving his hand away from his face, he glanced across his chest and down his left side. A large cast covered the length of his left arm from high up on his bicep downward toward the palm of his hand. Oscar stared intently at his fingers peeking out of the end of the cast, concentrating intently and willing them to move even a fraction of an inch. After a moment, he released a small puff of frustration as he glanced toward the ceiling and back down.

Although he couldn't feel the chest tube, he could see how the cylindrical hose protruded from his midsection. Peeking from beneath the lowered sheets and his skewed robe, Oscar could see sections of tape and gauze holding the tube in place as it entered his chest. Small flares of purple and yellow bruising could be seen amidst the bandages.

Resting his head back softly against the pillow behind him, Oscar released the deep breath he had been holding in his lungs. He attempted to figure out exactly where the sensation stopped down his chest, all the while knowing that he was fortunate that he could still feel anything in his chest at all. If not, there was a real possibility that he would be relying heavily on breathing support systems.

The door creaked to life once more as Angie trailed a doctor into the hospital room. The older man dressed in blue scrubs came to stand at Oscar's left side while Angie moved to reclaim her seat to his right. Oscar mutely watched Angie's face and then her hands as she clutched his right between her own, frowning as he missed the contact that was directly in front of him.

As the man to his left started to speak, Oscar attempted to meet Angie's gaze before turning back to face the doctor. "Good morning, Mr. Vega, I am Dr. Kirkland – Thomas Kirkland – and I was your surgeon the morning you came in to see us. Ms. Flynn tells me that you're experiencing some loss of sensation, yes?"

Carefully swallowing, Oscar nodded before answering, "Yes sir."

"Well, Mr. Vega, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is that when you were brought in to us, we did not note any traumatic spinal injuries while you were in surgery for us to repair. Unfortunately, you had suffered a brain injury upon impact. The injury, followed by the subsequent swelling and seizure, may tell us more about why you are experiencing these symptoms. To be sure, I'd like to send you for a CT scan to detect or rule out any further trauma to the brain," the doctor finished logically.

"When will we know for sure?" Angie spoke up to Oscar's right.

"If everything goes according to plan, hopefully we will have more information within the next few hours. I will see to it myself that he is scheduled for the first available appointment, and the testing and results should be back shortly thereafter. Are there any other questions?" the doctor asked.

Clearing his throat, Oscar spoke up; "Will I need to be put under for the scan, Doctor?"

Smiling gently at his patient, "I don't see why you would, Mr. Vega. CT scans require the patient to remain still for the duration of testing, and given the nature of the reason we are ordering the test, I think you should be fine. Ms. Flynn? You can either wait for your friend here, or in the waiting room; the choice is yours. I'll go ahead and set up your transport, Mr. Vega, and someone should be in to retrieve you momentarily." Stopping momentarily in the open doorway, the doctor turned toward the room's occupants. "Before heading down to the testing unit, I'm going to speak to a nurse about removing your chest tube. You should be fine without the tube, and now we should be able to simply use a nasal cannula to deliver supplemental oxygen to your system," the doctor finished and departed through the open door.

Nodding to himself, Oscar brought his gaze to look at Angie softly. "Hey…partner…" he began softly. "It will be okay. I promise."

"You don't know that," Angie argued. "What if there is something more serious going on?"

"Then I'll deal with whatever diagnosis they throw my way," he answered simply.

"No – No, then we will deal with whatever diagnosis they throw our way," she rebutted softly. "I'm not going anywhere. Hell or high water."

Laughing softly, Oscar dropped his eyes to stare at their joined hands. With a deep breath, he brought his soft brown eyes back up to meet Angie's moistened blue ones. "I'm sorry," he spoke quietly.

"What? Why?" she asked.

"I just – I know this can't be easy for you. So I'm sorry," he whispered. "Maybe while I'm gone, you can take care of some business; maybe you can say hello to Manny for me. If I know you, you've spent plenty of time waiting for me. Now I can return the favor; if they finish early, I'll be here when you get back," he smiled gently.

"Yeah…we'll see," Angie replied distantly.

Then the two partners sat in restless silence until a nurse interrupted to inquire about removing his chest tube. Politely, Angie excused herself with one last squeeze of Oscar's hand. She brushed her lips across his forehead in departure, causing Oscar to momentarily close his eyes and breathe a small sigh of relief as she closed the door behind her.

* * *

Reluctantly, Angie had utilized the time away from Oscar's bedside checking in with the precinct to let them know that Oscar had been regained consciousness and that she would be taking a personal day. In light of the current circumstances, she had to respectfully decline requests by Lucas and Betty to come visit; taking full responsibility, she figured the presence of their colleagues would be overwhelming so soon.

She fidgeted with her phone for another couple of minutes before finally deciding to call Manny. While she didn't want her son to see their friend in his current condition, Manny would be beyond angry if she hadn't let him know as soon as possible. With her finger poised over the CALL button, she blew out a deep breath before tapping the screen. The phone rang in her ear as she waited anxiously for her son to answer.

"…'ello?" her son answered groggily.

"Hey, sweetie. Sorry about calling you so early," she whispered as she glanced at her wrist to check the time. The minute hand had just swept by the eight; almost quarter of seven in the morning.

"Mom…? Where are you? Why are you whispering?" Manny questioned.

"I, uh – I'm at the hospital. I decided to check on our favorite patient briefly before heading into work this morning," she grimaced as she told the small fib. It wasn't huge, but it meant a great deal to her friends that she had been getting plenty of rest. No one needed to know how many hours she'd spent by his bedside in the last week. "Anyway, so I was wondering if you'd like to visit Oscar with me."

"Uh, Mom? What aren't you telling me?" he asked.

For a moment, Angie was worried that her son would read into what she had asked and knew that there was something she was hiding from him. Recovering quickly, she spoke into the phone; "Noth –"she cleared her throat, "Nothing. I just figured it had been a few days. Maybe there's been some change."

She felt guilty for lying to Manny, but she knew how hard the situation was already, and honestly felt like he would appreciate seeing Oscar in person rather than relaying information over the phone line. With a yawn, Manny spoke up again; "Sure. I'll get dressed if you can come pick me up."

"Absolutely," she told him, knowing the determination in her voice was forced. "See you soon," Angie whispered before ending the call. Blinking back tears, she decided she would explain the situation to her son on their way back to the hospital; any questions either one of them had would hopefully be answered by the time she returned.

* * *

**Again, thank you so much for the time and energy you have put into reading this. I've already started on the next chapter, so we'll see how that one pans out. **

**Comments/Questions/Suggestions? You know where to find me.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: ...*sigh*...still not mine.**

**Author's note: I'm working as fast as I can!**

* * *

The stillness that blanketed the hospital room did little to put Oscar's mind at ease, so he turned his thoughts elsewhere. Golden streams of sunlight shone through the open blinds, painting the stark white walls with a glow as he apprehensively awaited Angie's return. The warmth of rays streamed across the room reminded him of Angie's blonde curls while the azure of the sky was reminiscent of her bright blue eyes.

Good God, he thought to himself. She had been gone a little over two hours and he missed her like it had been years. Oscar attempted to put himself in her position, waiting eagerly for his friend to awaken. While he considered himself a patient man, Oscar knew without a doubt that he would have internally been on the verge of losing his sanity.

If he were being honest with himself, he wasn't surprised that she had yet to reappear in his doorway. Oscar tried to convince himself that he had reacted in the best way possible when the doctor had explained the situation to them. What he failed to recognize at the time was that his overly optimistic interpretation of the news had been just as off-putting to Angie as it would have been had he shouted at her to go away and leave him alone.

Oscar was used to being the strong, solid force between the two of them. Out of habit, he assumed the same role even in the midst of his own personal crisis. Unfortunately, the reaction had elicited the same undesired response; his best friend and partner disappeared under the pretense that she wasn't needed. Screwing up his face tightly, he bit back a frustrated groan as he realized his mistake.

Damnit.

Growling in pain as his face tensed up with eyelids screwed shut tightly, he didn't hear the door glide open and rest against the doorstop on the wall. A gentle knock broke him from his concentration; he opened his left eyelid to peek toward the pair of shadows standing in the doorway and emptied his lungs of the breath he had been holding in.

"You all right there, partner?" Angie asked bemusedly. Manny stood just beyond his mother's left shoulder with a look of confusion that softly gave way to a look of relief.

"Oscar!" Manny chimed in, quickly moving around his mother to enter the room and cross to the bedside. Slowing to a stop, he peered down at Oscar's still form beneath him. Hesitantly glancing around the room, he found a second chair over by the far window and slid the object across the floor until he had arranged enough seating for him and his mother to Oscar's right. Oscar smirked at the young man's eagerness, but was concerned about how much information Angie had shared with her son. He wasn't sure if he could handle Manny's pity.

Angie came further into the room, closing the door behind her, and gracefully took the seat closest to him. Shifting his eyes toward his partner, he silently pleaded with her to forgive his earlier actions. "I know," she whispered softly with a slight smile, reaching out to caress his stubbled cheek with her thumb.

"Mom told me they were running some tests on you when she came home to pick me up. Have they gotten any results back yet?" Manny queried, innocently infringing upon their moment.

Clearing his throat, Oscar shifted his head on the pillow to better see Manny. "Uh, no. Not yet."

"And you…uh…you can't feel anything?" he asked.

"Well, no, not exactly. I can sort feel an ache in my chest, which they tell me is a good sign and anything north of that. Otherwise, I guess I'd say the answer is no," Oscar replied, quickly glancing toward Angie, and then back again to Manny. "A nurse stopped by just before you guys came in. She mentioned that a specialist should be visiting before lunch."

"That seems like an awfully long time to be waiting," Angie frowned.

"If you take into consideration that I was just ushered back to my room, it may not seem like that long. Especially now that I have your charming presence to keep me company," he joked, although Angie could see that the jest was strained.

"Ah, yes. Compliments will get you everywhere," she volleyed back at him in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Honestly, did they give you any indication of what to expect?"

"No. Well, not really. They said the sensation in my chest means that breathing should be easier, but that's about it," Oscar explained.

The trio sat in silence as each mulled over the possibilities that lay ahead, each caught up in their own thoughts. Oscar looked over to his companions once more before speaking softly to Manny; "It's not your fault, you know. I'm sure there's a part of you that blames yourself, but I want you to know that I don't blame you."

"How – how could you say that?" Manny implored. "I was the one that put you here! I don't understand how…how…" the young man trailed off, not sure how to voice his frustrations.

Oscar remained calm as he chose his words carefully before responding to Manny. "Were you driving the other car?" Oscar asked. He spoke with understanding, knowing that Manny was struggling with how to internalize his feelings.

"What?! No! But – but –"

"But what?" Oscar asked. "If anything, I'm proud of you. You made the right choice."

Manny became quiet, staring down at his sneakers in contemplation. Angie reached over to her son and gently squeezed his arm. "Manny," she began. "Manny, accidents like this happen every day. You are hardly responsible for this situation. If anything, you're responsible for making the choice that didn't make the circumstances any worse. What if you had been driving?"

Manny knew that both of the adults were right, but a part of him still felt guilty. Sniffling, Manny raised his eyes to meet his mother's and then Oscar's. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I think it's just I wish I could do something to help."

"You want to know how you can help?" Oscar smirked at the young man. "Take care of this one right here," he said, nodding to his partner sitting next to him. "Make sure she gets more than three hours of sleep tonight, will you?"

Angie's eyes widened briefly before she squinted them in scorn at her partner. Amazing, she thought to herself. The man had been comatose less than twenty-four hours ago and here he was reading her like a well-worn picture book. Was she that obvious? To him, she realized, perhaps she really was.

Quickly expelling a short breath from his nostrils, Manny tried not to laugh out loud at the interaction between Oscar and his mother. The relationship between these two was miraculous – the glances, the touches, the inside jokes, and the bits and pieces that made them tick. Truthfully, he genuinely hoped that he would someday meet someone who understood him so implicitly.

A knock at the door startled him from his thoughts as two men entered the room, the first in a young man clad in starched white lab coat followed by an older gentleman in navy blue scrubs. The older man looked somewhat familiar, but Manny couldn't place him right away.

"Ah, Mr. Flynn. How nice it is to see you up and about," the older man spoke. Taking note of the look of confusion, he continued further; "I'm Dr. Kirkland. I was Mr. Vega's attending physician and I checked on you the night before your release. I'd honestly be surprised if you remembered me," he supplied with a smile.

Turning toward Oscar and Angie, the doctor next introduced them to his colleague. "Mr. Vega; Mr. and Ms. Flynn; this is Dr. Jonathan Nelson, Neurology Specialist."

"Please, call me Jack. I'm not a huge fan of the formalities," the younger man offered as he extended his hand toward the seated individuals before resting his hand upon Oscar's shoulder.

Angie frowned as she observed the young doctor. He couldn't have been more than thirty, thirty-five tops; a detail that didn't escape her consideration. She mentally made note to continue calling him by his professional title, if only to remind herself that he wasn't some high school dropout caring for her best friend.

"As you know, Mr. Vega," the younger doctor continued, "we initially planned on taking you in for a CT scan to reveal any possible damage to your brain tissue, but we opted to also include an MRI to help expose a potential harm done to the soft tissue, as well.

The CT scan was able to pick up minor swelling in two significant locations, Mr. Vega. Firstly, the imaging noted some swelling near the sight of your initial head injury, which was to be expected. Unfortunately, the extent of the damage was not localized to that region alone. It appears that the force of impact may have been so great that the violent trajectory of your head making contact with the vehicle's window was enough to temporarily shock your brain altogether. As a result, the rapid change in position of your brain added further damage to the brain stem."

Well accustomed to gruesome details was a hazard of Angie's job that she rarely questioned. In this moment, however, as she listened to the young doctor explain his findings, Angie was thrown by the uncomfortable feeling that settled over her.

The young doctor continued with his findings a moment later. "This being said, it is with good news that I tell you that we took you in to undergo an MRI, too, in order to underlying issues. Fortunately, the MRI results confirmed what I was looking for."

A beat of silence passed before Angie spoke up quietly, "Which was what exactly?"

"Ms. Flynn; Mr. Vega; put simply, the degree of trauma to the nerves within your brain was limited to their outer lining," the doctor said quickly. Glancing to the surgeon next to him, he quickly looked back at the other occupants of the room.

Oscar furrowed his brow for a moment in confusion, and then the cloudiness cleared as he cleared his throat. "Does – that, uh, means the damage is temporary?" he questioned.

Smiling gently to the patient, both doctors shared a glance between them before the neurologist spoke again. "Yes sir. You are currently experiencing a condition known as Neurapraxia, sir. That essentially means that there has been a disturbance in how signals are transmitting back and forth to stimulate movement. As a result, you are suffering from a temporary loss of motor function to your appendages."

Oscar let his eyelids fall closed with a heavy sigh as he processed the information. A sniffle to his right encouraged him to open his eyes and turn his head in that direction where he was met by the small smile that danced across Angie's face. Quickly wiping away a stray tear that trailed down her cheek, Angie reached over and cupped his cheek with her dampened fingertips.

Reluctantly drawing her eyes away from his, Angie looked up to the doctors once more before voicing her question. "How long should the condition last? Is there any way to know?" she asked, awaiting their answers apprehensively.

* * *

***Initiates deep breathing exercises* Stay with me!**

**Questions/Comments/Suggestions? - shoot 'em at me :) See you soon, my fantastic peeps!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Not mine; I can't even get them on loan while they prep for Season 3. Darn.**

**Author's Note: I'll be honest, I didn't have much time to proofread this chapter. I've been a little scatterbrained lately between a new job and a few things piling up. On a freaky note, I have a friend whose nephew and husband were in an ATV accident last weekend who had nearly identical injuries to Manny & Oscar in my story. I mean, gosh darn that's weird. Fortunately, they'll be okay.**

* * *

_Previously in Distance 9:_

_Smiling gently to the patient, both doctors shared a glance between them before the neurologist spoke again. "Yes sir. You are currently experiencing a condition known as Neurapraxia, sir. That essentially means that there has been a disturbance in how signals are transmitting back and forth to stimulate movement. As a result, you are suffering from a temporary loss of motor function to your appendages."_

_Oscar let his eyelids fall closed with a heavy sigh as he processed the information. A sniffle to his right encouraged him to open his eyes and turn his head in that direction where he was met by the small smile that danced across Angie's face. Quickly wiping away a stray tear that trailed down her cheek, Angie reached over and cupped his cheek with her dampened fingertips._

_Reluctantly drawing her eyes away from his, Angie looked up to the doctors once more before voicing her question. "How long should the condition last? Is there any way to know?" she asked, awaiting their answers apprehensively._

* * *

"Unfortunately not, Ms. Flynn." The young doctor explain, "Each case is treated on an individual basis; while some cases have been resolved in a matter of days, other cases have lasted well over a couple of months. As soon as your body is able to do so, Mr. Flynn, we will have you sent for a lightened physical therapy regimen to mitigate any potential atrophy. We need to keep your body in peak functioning condition as much as possible if we want to be able to release you comfortably when the time comes."

With so many questions unable to be answered, Angie simply sighed and rested the palm of her hand on Oscar's forearm. She wrestled with feelings of inadequacy, willing fate to give her a sign as to how else she might be able to assist. Unfortunately, Oscar's look of understanding only compounded the emotions she felt.

"I'm sure you feel that this is quite a bit of information to take in, but I have a few other items to address. Firstly, the tests run this morning allowed us to check on the progress of your facial injuries, which are improving nicely," spoke Kirkland, who had remained quiet for most of the meeting up to this point.

"We also utilized the opportunity to scan your lungs as well, Mr. Vega. With the tube removed, we were able to see that the punctured region has been healing as expected. The puncture wound is not completely healed, but that was anticipated considering the nature of its origin. While the wound will not keep you here, we will need to schedule a complete medical evaluation before you are cleared for active duty when the time comes.

As a healthy adult male, your bones have been fusing at a rate higher than expected, especially with the supplemental hardware in place to relieve any possible stress to the joint. This is encouraging for your prognosis, Mr. Vega, as it should move up the timetable on your return to duty." Gesturing to the encased arm, Kirkland continued, "Regrettably, your current arrangement severely limits the amount of information we can gain about soft tissue damage to the region. Like with your Neurapraxia, only time will truly answer the question as to how long, and to what extent, you will experience symptoms."

The younger doctor waited a moment after his colleague had finished his update before exchanging glances with the room's occupants. "I'm sure this is quite a bit of information to digest all at once. If you have no further questions at this time, Dr. Kirkland and I will see about your follow up treatment from this point forward. Once we've met with the physical therapy department, we'll be sure to square away scheduling as well."

Sparing a glance toward Angie and Manny, Oscar nodded as he looked back to the doctors in the room. With a slight smile, each doctor again shook hands with the two across from Oscar's bed before exiting the room and closing the door softly behind them.

A thick silence hung in the air before Manny spoke up, "Wow. That's, uh – that's a lot to take in, huh?"

Oscar simply nodded, while Angie remained silent. Glancing back and forth between the two men, Angie figured Oscar wouldn't mind a little time to himself. In addition to giving her partner a chance to rest, she figured this would also allow her to encourage her son to catch up on some much needed rest, as well. Never mind the fact that she could use a little fresh air herself. It was possibly due to the fact that hospitals were ever associated with good news, but Angie never felt at ease as she sat within these walls – a fact that she was positive hadn't escaped her friend's keen observational skills.

Almost as if reading her mind, Oscar looked to Angie. "Go. I'm sure I'll see you later," he stated perceptively. How he ever managed to do that would never cease to amaze her.

"Only if you're sure," she forced herself to respond. As much as hospitals made her skin crawl, her first priority was the man who lay in front of her, even at the expense of her own comfort level.

"I'll be fine. How far can I go?" he joked, as his friends gathered their belongings and pushed their chairs back. "I'll see you around?" he asked, raising his eyebrows toward Manny.

"You got it. I've still got some time before I have to go back…" the young man replied, before quietly whispering, "or if…."

Squinting his eyes toward the young man and ensuring that Angie was distracted before responding, "I think we'll talk about that at some point, too?"

Manny merely nodded before following his mother out of the hospital room, closing the door with a click as he left.

* * *

The next week saw Oscar's recovery progressing satisfactorily, with the effects of his temporary paralysis dissipating day by day. Promoted in part by the assistance of a physical therapist that came to visit daily, stretching limbs and analyzing his range of motion. A regimen of physical activity staved muscle atrophy meanwhile continued, yet limited, visits from friends and family provided a boost in morale.

Toward the middle of Oscar's third week stay in the hospital, Angie had wrapped up early and decided to go to see him straight from the precinct. Interrupting a particularly grueling PT session, Angie turned to retreat as quickly as she had entered when Oscar's rough voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Ang," coughing to clear his throat, Oscar tried again. "Angie, wait –" he stuttered. Turning to the physical therapist, he asked the hulking woman for a moment alone with his visitor.

"Sorry, partner," Angie began. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I guess it slipped my mind that you'd be doing therapy this early. I just finished at the station and thought I'd swing by and bring you a present." Pulling a small pastry box from behind her back, Angie smiled sheepishly at Oscar as she stepped closer. "It's not much, but you've been making such great progress that I thought you deserved a reward."

Releasing a radiant smile, Oscar sat up straighter in his bed and stretched out his right hand toward her, "Wait – don't move."

Angie stopped her forward momentum, giving him a curious look while being careful not to drop the box.

"It's just – I've got a surprise for you too. Just –" he paused and grunted while he attempted to adjust his position.

"You okay?" She asked, tempted to place the box in chair and move over to help him.

"Uh, yeah. I just, uh – hold on," he muttered. "Can you do me a favor?" Oscar asked quietly.

"Absolutely. What do you need?" she asked, prepared to do almost anything for him.

"I need you to put the box down, and hold out your arms," Oscar requested nervously.

Gently placing the pastry box in the chair to her right, Angie turned back around to face Oscar in the bed and slowly raised her arms. Looking at him curiously, she smiled at him good-naturedly and awaited further instruction.

"Okay, now, I need you to take one step forward. Right there, that's good," he instructed as she did as she was told. "How strong are you?" Oscar asked.

"Wait, what?" Angie questioned.

"I just need to know if you can help me in case I can't do this," he replied as he maneuvered himself carefully so he could gently sweep his legs over the right side of the bed with some assistance from his uninjured arm.

While Angie had known that Oscar and the therapist had been working on his lower body exercises, she had never been present to witness any of the improvement. His upper half had begun cooperating a few days prior to his lower body, but the coordination was still a work in progress.

Struggling to push himself up off the edge of the bed, Angie stared intently at the muscles and tendons flexing in his trembling arm and the grimace that danced across his face before he was able to rise completely. The left arm's cast had been downsized and he had now been relegated to a sling to help keep the bones immobile while they healed. Even as a large part of her had been tempted to step in and assist him, she knew how this was an exercise in proving his progress to himself as well as her, so she allowed him to do it himself. Exhaling loudly, Oscar sighed as he met her gaze with a smirk.

Angie beamed at him radiantly and clasped her hands together, then brought them to her mouth. Laughing out loud, she cupped her hands over her open mouth in astonishment. Tears of joy started to pool in her eyes as she bit her lip, unsure of exactly what to say.

"Wait – wait, don't cry," Oscar began. Staring back down at his feet, he grasped the IV pole with his right hand and began to shuffle towards her. He reached his final destination directly in front of her as his eyes rose to meet hers, with his head cocked to the side. "I thought I gave you directions, Ang."

Angie shook her head with a silent laugh as she brought her hands up once again to hang near his biceps and raised an eyebrow questioningly. With one last shuffle forward, Oscar carefully let go of the IV pole, shoved it aside and then brought his right hand up to encircle her waist. Gripping her waist tightly with his free hand, he inched his hand around her waist until it rested at the small of her back and gripped the fabric tightly.

Sharing the same breath for a moment, Oscar tenderly drew Angie's frame toward his and hung on. Sighing deeply, he could feel her arms softly settle on his upper arms before enclosing around his shoulder blades and hang on firmly. With his body attached to hers, Oscar could feel rather than hear or see Angie release a shuddering breath as she tried not to cry. Clinching his eyes closed for a moment, he then lifted his head off of her shoulder enough to draw back his own face for a few moments.

Angie's eyes were closed as she attempted to calm herself from the emotional roller coaster on which she was riding. Oscar carefully extricated his arm from around her waist and brought a shaking hand up to her face to wipe the slow stream of tears that had begun their journey down his partner's face. Careful not to disturb the injured arm between them, Angie brought her arms up to loop around his neck and squeezed them together tighter. With her hands at the base of Oscar's skull, she ran her fingers through the thick curls found there and drew his forehead down to meet hers.

"It's going to be okay, Ang," Oscar whispered softly, closing his own eyes. "I'll be okay."

* * *

**P.S. - Any guesses as to what's in the pastry box? Does anyone care, for that matter?**

**P.S.S. - How many of you are asking yourselves if I'm done with this story? I could be...or, not...As my father likes to say, "You know...you just never know." (What does that even mean?! He's full of wisdom like that. You know, he's "smart smart", not "dumb smart" as Angie would say.)**

**Questions/Comments/Suggestions? - Please let me know.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: You'd think they'd be mine at this point...but, unfortunately, not the case.**

**Author's note: Thank you for being so patient! I'm sorry it's been more than 48 hours ;)**

* * *

A few minutes passed in hushed silence as Oscar and Angie embraced until she began to feel him waver. Carefully extricating herself from his arms, she escorted him carefully back to take a seat on the edge of the bed once more. Pulling the IV pole alongside her, she was careful not to let Oscar entangle himself in the tubes leading toward the bag suspended near his head. Releasing a shuddering breath, he lowered his head and breathed softly to himself for a moment.

Taking in the sight before her, she smiled somewhat ruefully at her partner before her. With his legs gently dangling from the bedside and his apprehensive expression, she was struck by how much he looked like a lost little boy. Slowly, so as not to startle him, she brought her palms to rest upon his shoulders before tracing them slowly up his neck, pausing to savor the soft thrumming of his pulse, to cup the base of his skull and gently guide it upwards.

With his face now pointed in her direction, she was shocked to see his downcast gaze as he refused to meet her eyes. Massaging a small knot where his skull met his spine, Angie coaxed him to look at her.

"Hey...where'd you go?" she asked.

Blinking slowly, a look of resignation passed over his features as he carefully shrugged.

"Oscar...Oscar, you're doing great. Astonishingly well, in fact. You're entitled to be tired, or sore, or frustrated, or all of those things," she encouraged him softly. While small victories were great, he still had a long ways to go. "Oh, Oscar..." she breathed softly, gently resting her forehead against his as she felt him release another sigh.

Gingerly combing her fingers through the curls at the base of his neck, she slowly began to massage his scalp in effort to relieve some tension. He sighed deeply as her ministrations moved up and around the slopes of his earlobes. She lifted her own head and paused briefly before gently turning his head to the right so she could better see the small incision between his temple and his ear where the catheter had been inserted into his brain.

Tracing a fingertip down the small incision, she marveled at the human body's ability to heal itself. Oscar startled at her light touch, but didn't pull away. Lifting her finger away, Angie started; "I'm sorry. Does it hurt?" she asked.

Slowly shaking his head back and forth, Oscar replied, "No - just a little sensitive, I guess."

Biting her lower lip, she looked at the area once more before looking back to him. "You can't even tell," she fibbed.

Squinting his eyes at her, Oscar knew better than to call her bluff. "Well, that's good, I suppose."

Knowing he could read her face, she needed to find something to preoccupy her. Turning to grasp the pastry box, Angie balanced the container in one hand while pulling the visitor's chair so close to the bed that her knees brushed lightly across her partner's shins. Sitting down opposite her partner, she smiled to herself as she fiddled with the cardboard in her hands.

"So...anyway...I got you a little something since you're doing so well," Angie began.

"Oh? You mean you're willing to share what's in the box?" Oscar teased.

"Well, when you put it that way, now I'm not so sure." Angie smiled before lifting the lid. "I may have to find some new friends who are willing to share my goodies."

"You wouldn't," Oscar growled playfully.

"No? Shame; but I'm not sure anyone can appreciate these queijadas like you, partner," she spoke as she lifted one to his upward turned palm. Grabbing one for herself, she closed the lid and placed the container on the bed next to him. "Seriously. I was a goner after my very first bite. Thanks a lot for ruining me for any other decadent desserts."

"Me?!" Oscar cried indignantly. "I'm pretty sure it was you who snatched that first one out my hand. A sin I'm still not sure I'm ready to forgive," he jokingly huffed.

"Stolen, shmolen. All's fair in love and war, Vega. The fact remains that you are an enabler. I blame you," Angie smirked as she pointed a finger in his face.

With a bright smile, Oscar just laughed as he ate his pastry in silence. If it meant she'd get a smile like that every day, Angie vowed to herself that she would bring him pastries every day if necessary. Gently biting into her own, she marveled at his ability to make her cast her own discomfort aside and focus squarely on his recovery and his spirit, not the hospital they were in or the reasons why.

* * *

Finishing some notes on the open file in front of her, Angie sighed as she was interrupted by a small cough to her right. Looking up from the file, she was met with the intense gaze of her superior. Simply raising an eyebrow, she waited patiently for Mark to speak.

Unfolding his arms, he leaned further into her personal space with palms open wide upon her desk so she had to roll back in her chair to get a better look at him. Unfortunately, the wheels came to a stop as the chair's back butted up against desk behind her causing her momentum to stop. Angie decided to wait him out.

"How's your partner, Ang?" Mark began.

Breathing deeply, Angie counted to five before answering. "Fine. You could check up on him yourself, you know. He's one of your own," she replied bitingly.

"I know that, Angie. But I also figured I'd use this as an opportunity to check in with you, too," he responded. "Ang, take it easy. Don't burn yourself out."

"Thank you for your concern, sir," she answered, briefly glancing at Lucas as he came through the bullpen and started toward his own desk. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to attend to some business if I expect to make it out of here at a decent hour."

"Go. This can wait," Mark offered gently.

"Forgive me if I don't heed your advice," Angie answered.

Raising his eyebrows at her, Mark stood up fully before backing up a full step. "Really? I'll admit; I'm kind of surprised - and impressed."

"Don't be," she bit back. "I have a job to do, a pretty damn important one, too. But honestly, I'm buying time. You see, here's the deal: my best friend is going to need some help when he comes home, which hopefully will be soon. Until then, I'll work my tail off for the both of us - because that's what partners do. I'm not doing it out of some misguided sense of obligation; I'm doing it because it's what I feel the need to do."

Nodding to her, Mark understood. A part of him was envious that her partnership with Vega had been everything that theirs hadn't been - genuine and unconditional. He had the sneaking suspicion that it wouldn't end there; but to be honest, it really wasn't his place to offer conjecture, but to follow the facts. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Mark stalked away toward his office before closing the door with a click that echoed through the quiet bullpen.

With the door settled in its resting place, Angie released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Scrubbing her palm across her face, she began to organize the information before her into neat stacks. Once completed, she turned to face her partner's empty desk across from her. Blinking back tears, she let her eyes flutter closed for a moment before opening them and rising to her feet. Pushing her chair under her desk, she glanced over it one more time before turning to leave.

Lucas intercepted her in the doorway with a gentle smile. "If you need anything, anything at all, I'm only a phone call away. Well, that, and -"

Angie silenced him as she brushed a light kiss across his bare cheek, and then rubbed away an invisible lip print. "I know," she replied as the younger man blushed. "You're very sweet, Brian. Thank you. And I'll give Oscar your regards."

Nodding to her, Lucas stepped aside to let her leave. Watching her depart, he smiled to himself before turning back to his own desk and settling in to work awhile longer.

* * *

"Mr. Vega, please. You're not completely ready to be on your own," the nurse implored once more.

Oscar grimaced as he fidgeted with the sling around his neck and he halfheartedly listened to her explain herself once again. Thrusting his open hand toward her, the nurse briefly stopped her tirade. Waving the hand, Oscar looked up at her and cut her off. "Look - I get it – I've already gotten the whole 'not ready to go home, can't manage on my own' spiel. I'm just tired, okay? Tired of being cooped up in here all day."

"I'm sorry, sir, but that's just protocol," the nurse supplied.

"Fine, but when can I go home?" he asked.

"I'd have to arrange for your doctors to release you. You're making so much progress here; I would hate to see you have setbacks at home. And again, you -"

"'Need someone to help.' Yes, I understood that part. Isn't it your job to encourage me to go home? You know, release me and have me readjust? And aren't there home care nurses for this sort of thing?" Oscar pleaded.

As Angie watched from the doorway, she smiled to herself. Oscar was the most patient man she knew, so it made her laugh that even he had a breaking point. She couldn't imagine switching places with him and being here at the hospital so long. Glancing at the stark walls around her, she shuddered briefly before entering the room and announcing her presence.

"Oh! Good evening, Ms. Flynn," the portly nurse greeted her.

"Hey, how's our favorite patient?" Angie asked with a smile.

"Right as rain, I tell ya," she replied to Angie. Turning back toward Oscar, Angie laughed quietly as she watched him try to hide a scowl as the nurse faced him. "You sir, wait here. I will go see if I can follow up on your...request." Angie smiled politely at the nurse as she turned to leave and left them in silence.

Moving toward the visitor's chair, Angie gently smacked him with her gloves as she took a seat. "What is wrong with you?!" She whispered. "They're trying to take care of you."

Resting his head against the pillow, Oscar looked over to her and raised an eyebrow. "How much did you see?" he asked, somewhat embarrassed.

"Enough to know that if I wasn't sitting here, you probably would have busted loose a long time ago," Angie replied.

Oscar's eyelids fell closed as he breathed deeply for a few moments. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to see that. I just - I just want my life back."

Angie smiled sympathetically and took his hand in hers. "And you'll get it. One step at a time. Okay? In the mean time, I know you miss me, but don't take it out on the help," she joked.

Releasing a small laugh, Oscar opened his eyes to meet hers. "Damn. You caught me. But I'll try to do better," he replied, smirking at her.

A warm blush rose up her cheeks as she met his gaze. Although he was toying with her, his eyes held a sparkle that told her it wasn't completely a joke. She squeezed his hand tighter to let him know the feeling was mutual.

* * *

**Questions/Comments/Suggestions? - Shoot 'em at me.**

**So...yeah...I enjoyed this chapter, even if it wasn't easy because I never had time to write. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it, too. I think we got a chance to see another side of Oscar, which is typically very well hidden (I let a little Ferreira shine through). **

**P.S. - Queijadas ****are Portuguese morsels of yumminess. **

**P.S.S. - You are all fantastic. Thanks for sticking with me.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Most definitely not mine, with the exception of a few minor characters.**

**Author's Note: This is sort of the chapter for which you've all been waiting (Skylarcat, I'm working on your request...kinda). Believe me, the turnaround should be a little quicker this time (ie: the next installment is already almost finished).**

* * *

"Great. You're doing fantastic, Mr. Vega. Four more and you're done," the therapist encouraged.

Oscar inhaled a deep breath as he mentally counted to five before he coughed harshly. With his face drawn tight, he grunted as he sunk back further into the cushioned chair and blinked to keep the sweat from dripping down into his squinted eye. "One, and then I'm done," he chuffed, breathing heavily.

"Two; that's my final offer," the burly therapist offered, patting his patient lightly on the back.

"Slave driver," Oscar muttered quietly to himself. "I think you're enjoying my pain," he spoke up louder, glaring at the man to his right.

The physical therapist chuckled loudly. "I won't lie to you, Mr. Vega. You're right, I do - because like I've told you before, 'the pain -"

"'you feel today will be the strength you feel tomorrow.' Yeah, I got it. It doesn't make it hurt any less," Oscar's biting reply came back. With a deep breath, he clenched his teeth as he extended his left arm outwards and then carefully drew it in towards his tense chest. Groaning, he brought his right hand up to support the injured limb and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Morning, Ms. Flynn!" his companion called out joyously. "We're almost done here. Then he's all yours, sour puss and all."

Prying his eyes open, Oscar followed Angie's deliberate steps toward him. Smiling at the therapist, Angie dropped her gaze to Oscar's seated form and bit her bottom lip softly. Slowly raising her right hand to his forehead, she softly wiped a bead of sweat as it trailed down the path the one prior to it had left in its wake.

"How many more?" she whispered.

"None," Oscar attempted to tell her before he was cut off by the wretched punisher standing next to him.

"Nice try, Mr. Vega. It's supposed to be three now, but I told him I may shorten his sentence for good behavior," he replied as he winked at Angie.

"Pushover," she replied to the therapist. Looking back at Oscar, she raised her eyebrows at him as she spoke. "I think we all know that 'good behavior' was a long shot from the beginning, am I right?"

Squinting at his partner, he turned to look at the therapist. "Three?" Oscar asked. "Fine. Let's do this," he replied with a defeated sigh.

Never moving away from her position at his side, Angie crouched down and flinched alongside her partner as he grimaced his way through three more reps to appease the therapist. Upon completing his last stretch, Oscar dropped his head heavily against the headrest of the seat and closed his eyes tightly, clutching his arm against his chest. Angie looked over his resting form and glanced up at the therapist sympathetically.

"I'll be right back with the ice pack," the therapist said, smiling gently. "And it looks like you've got yourself another visitor, Mr. Vega," he offered gently raising his eyebrows towards the door.

Angie slowly turned on her heels toward the door, before glancing back to her partner and smiling brightly at Oscar. She rubbed his shoulder and accepted the proffered ice for him as he lifted his eyelids once more. "C'mon. Stay with me, partner."

* * *

"As long as we continue this therapy regimen, you should be on schedule for your clearance exam about two months from now," the doctor concluded.

"'Two months'?" Oscar questioned. His face remained stoic, but Angie could feel the tension in his voice.

"Of course there's some...wiggle room, shall we say, in that window. These figures are based on your recovery so far," the older man supplied. Nodding down at Oscar's elbow, he continued. "Your fractures have been healing nicely, but we're still concerned about some soft tissue and nerve damage. This time will also allow us to monitor your lungs for any potential weakness, as well as your brain for any lingering trauma. I shouldn't have to tell you that two months off active duty beats twenty years on desk duty."

Nodding understandingly, Oscar pursed his lips in silent frustration. Looking toward Angie, he allowed a small smile to cross his face as he took in her genuine enthusiasm at the good news. She reached for his free hand with her right hand and fidgeted with the sling at his neck with nervous excitement with her left.

Angie briefly stilled her movements as she found the resolve to ask the next question on her mental list. "Does - does that mean he can come home?"

Oscar mentally noted how she had phrased the question; not asking when he could go home, but when he could come home. Lacing his fingers through hers, he squeezed tightly before drawing his gaze back to the doctor with a questioning glance.

"With a few particulars in place, I fail to see why that couldn't be arranged. For instance, he will need someone to stay with him - specifically during the evenings - but a little assistance during the day would probably be helpful at first, too. And as I previously mentioned, the regularly scheduled physical therapy will help keep us on course," the doctor explained. "If you'd like, I can go see about making possible arrangements for home care and continued therapy sessions while you discuss the news amongst yourselves," he finished before turning to make his exit.

Barely waiting for him to leave, Angie eagerly looked to her partner and whispered, "we get to go home, partner."

Oscar sat quietly for a moment, staring down at their joined hands in his lap before releasing his grip and drawing his own hand back towards his side. "I know what you're thinking, Angie. And you can't - I can't ask you to do that. You can't afford to take that much time, personally or professionally," he murmured.

"You don't get to make that decision," she spoke softly, gently guiding his chin and turning him to face her. "I appreciate your concern, but you are my priority - plain and simple."

"But Mark -" he began.

"No. No 'but Mark.' He's a non-issue. I spoke with him about this," she said, gesturing between the two of them. Glancing at the ceiling, she knew she couldn't meet his eyes or she'd reveal the recent tension between her and their superior.

The last thing she needed was for Oscar to be worried about her standing with Mark, especially considering he had yet to officially grant her said personal leave. Nevertheless, it probably wouldn't matter in a few short days. She and Mark had both been required to resubmit statements regarding Slater and the Dyer case, and both knew with certainty that suspension was imminent. All that was left to determine was severity and length of the conditions.

"Look - if it makes you feel better, I've been debating about taking some time anyway. I need some time, quite frankly, and I figured I could spend some time with Manny before he heads back; this will be perfect, honestly," she replied as she met her partner's intense gaze.

With a furrowed brow, Oscar watched Angie's face intently before offering a resolute nod. "Okay. Just - just don't do this for me."

Pinching him, she laughed as he moved his arm away, but then settled it back down with his fingers ghosting across hers. Gripping his calloused hand between hers, she raised it to gently brush her lips across its palm before smiling ruefully at him. "Call me selfish, partner. This gift is all for me."

"Speaking of Manny, when does he head back to university?" Oscar asked, drawing her attention away from the anxiety he knew she was hiding.

Momentarily distracted, Angie struggled for a moment to regain her concentration. "Uh - he, uh, he heads back this weekend. I guess classes resume on Tuesday, I think."

"Good - that's good. I'm sure he's looking forward to getting back. You know, away from his doting mother," Oscar smirked at her.

Releasing a quick laugh, Angie shook her head and squinted at him. "Actually, it's been the other way around this time."

"Well, that's no surprise. Somebody has to remind you to take care of the basics. You know, sleep; eat; the usual," Oscar joked.

"You should know better than anyone that no one needs to remind me to eat," Angie threw back, laughing quietly.

Oscar just smiled back at her, struck by her carefree smile as she allowed herself to enjoy the moment. "Very true," he said softly.

* * *

Prior to being released from the hospital a few days later, Oscar's doctor stopped in once more to square away his therapy schedule and discuss possible home care options. Placing the schedule and pain prescriptions with his personal effects, Angie listened carefully as the doctor explained the assorted options to Oscar.

"As long as I follow your directions, would it be possible to have non-medical personnel stay with me?" Oscar questioned once the doctor had finished.

"I'll be honest with you, Mr. Vega. While some of my peers would urge against it, I would actually recommend it. Some...normalcy should actually help in promoting recovery. I've always been a firm believer in keeping the patient happy," the doctor smiled at them. "While things won't return to normal immediately, reacclimating to the life you know means your transition into your regular life will be that much smoother."

"Will he need any other assistance other than a helping hand from time to time? Special equipment, or anything of that sort?" Angie asked the doctor.

"Mr. Vega should be fairly self-sufficient, with the exception of two-handed tasks. The important thing is for you to pace yourself," he said looking directly at Oscar before returning his gaze to Angie. "Of course, he also should be monitored at night for the next week, or so."

"Is there something in particular that we are trying to avoid?" Angie asked, momentarily concerned.

"More of a precaution following his head trauma. He should be fine, but there have been cases of residual seizures - especially when the patient is unaware of their occurrence. This is why I request that you monitor him at night," the doctor supplied. "It doesn't need to be all night. More or less, it's occasionally checking on him during the night; looking or listening for any distress."

Nodding in understanding, Angie watched as Oscar fiddled with the sling around his neck before stepping toward him to straighten the offending item before thanking the doctor for stopping. Smoothing it down gently, she let her fingertips ghost down his back and linger at a spot on his lower spine. She smiled gently to him as a nurse came in with a wheelchair and announced that his discharge procedure was all but complete, only needing his signature on the release form.

Angie watched quietly as the nurse set the clipboard in his lap to allow him easier access to the form. Oscar gently rested his encased forearm on the top of the board and grasped the pen she passed to him, gripping it uncertainly almost as if it he was still learning how to write. Scribbling on the paper, he glanced at the nurse before frowning down at the form. "I'm sorry; I guess I'm a little rusty," he apologized.

"To be expected, all things considered, Mr. Vega," the smiling nurse replied. Taking the clipboard from his lap, she tucked it under her arm before wheeling the chair closer to him. Angie allowed Oscar to stand and get his bearings before escorting him to the chair, careful to help him step through the footrests so he did not trip.

Once he was seated, Angie took a moment to shoulder the pack containing his necessities and turned back to her smiling partner. Grasping his hand, they each took one last glance around the room before nodding to the nurse in approval. Squeezing his hand tightly for a moment, she released it so the nurse could steer the chair out of the room as Angie trailed behind them to the elevator.

"I do hope you've enjoyed your stay with us, Mr. Vega, however I certainly hope you'll visit us on better terms next time," the nurse remarked jovially as the steel doors closed.

* * *

**Comments/Questions/Suggestions - shoot 'em at me.  
**

**You are all fantastic people. I'm so glad you guys are not only reading my work, but writing your own, too! Keep up the great writing folks.**

**P.S. - You want to hear how crazy I am? Here's a little nugget to chew on: I'm already working on some entirely new stories, too. Holy crap.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I may like to use them from time to time, but these characters or the premise upon which they are based are definitely not mine. Dag-nabbit.**

**Author's Note: I'll have you know, this chapter was...interesting. Again, I'm almost finished with the next one, so hopefully you can hold out just a bit longer. Enjoy!**

* * *

Pulling into the driveway, Angie put the car in PARK before killing the engine. Silently watching the sun fade from the early evening sky, she breathed deeply for a few moments before turning to look at her partner. Oscar was folded uncomfortably against the car's door, and she could see faint traces of condensation as it formed from under his nose as his temple rested against the cold, unforgiving glass.

Taking a moment to simply appreciate his breathing form, Angie blinked back grateful tears that threatened to spill over. Gently, she reached over to rub his shoulder and brought her hand up to trace the lines near where his eye met his cheekbone and the faint scar could still be seen. She waited in silence as he opened his eyes, squinting and blinking away the confusion as he attempted to regain consciousness.

Unfastening her own seat belt, Angie reached over to unfasten Oscar's seat belt and carefully untangle it from around his injured arm and waist. Noting the movement, he met her gaze before taking the strap from her hand and allowing it to return to its rightful place. With a long blink, he lowered his hand to the door handle and stared at the scuffed plastic for a long moment. He stared in silence until Angie's voice broke him from his daze.

"We can go back to your place, if you'd prefer. I just figured the single level would be easier for now, and I know where everything is here. I took the time to pack some of your things after I dropped  
Manny off and I came to pick you up," she offered.

"It's fine," Oscar replied tiredly. "Thanks."

"Sure. We can figure out dinner once we're inside, too. I'm not sure I have much right now, but we can always order out - your choice, partner," Angie spoke again, unlatching her door and climbing out as she pocketed her keys. Opening the back door, she had snatched his bag and quickly pushed the door closed again before he had time to react. Coming around of the rear of the vehicle, Oscar had begun to climb out of his own side as she saddled up close to him in case he needed assistance. Pausing briefly, he looked over the exterior of her home as it was bathed in the muted hues of dusk before turning to close his own door.

"I know it's not home, but it's only temporary," Angie remarked, smiled softly, as she led him around the side of the car port and up the path to the front steps. "Between you and me, partner, I'm trying to keep a low profile," she smirked as she gestured to the small home while unlocking the front door.

Stepping through the front door, Oscar allowed a smile to flit across his face at the truth of her words. While the outside of her home had seemed small and unpretentious, the furnishings in her home created a comfortable and open atmosphere within the tight quarters. Angie shouldered his two bags as she led him down a hallway off of the living room to their right and ushered him down the corridor. Pointing out room by room, he quickly became acquainted with the home.

"This," she pointed to her right, "is where I'll be sleeping should you need anything," Angie remarked as she stepped into a blue painted room with plaid bedding and an array of sports memorabilia.

"Uh, Ang?" Oscar questioned. "Isn't this Manny's room?"

"Yeah, well, he doesn't need it right now. Plus," she added quickly, "I figured you could take mine. At least for now, while you still need some…well, some…space? Or privacy?" she finished lamely.

Laughing gently at her, Oscar shook his head. "Ang, I can't kick you out of your own room," he responded still taking in the furnishings of the young man's room. "Trust me when I tell you that if I need personal space, you'll be the first to know."

Angie bit her lip for a moment as she paused in apprehension. "I just figured you'd like a little more space – and maybe, you know, your own bathroom and shower."

"Which I will have right across the hall," Oscar said as he turned to face toward the small bathroom across the hall.

A look of seriousness crossed her face as she reached out to him and rested her hands against the hard surface of his chest. Briefly letting the beat of his heart pulse into her palms as his chest rose and fell, she met his gaze with sad eyes. "Oscar, please. Let me do this for you," she pleaded softly as her hands fell to her sides.

And suddenly, it dawned on him. These small and seemingly insignificant details of sacrifice were her way of thanking him, because when it came down to it, he had given her a gift in which she couldn't reciprocate. Her son's life – and his own – had once hung in the balance between here and gone. Every day forward would serve to remind them of how either one of them may not have had the opportunity to serve an active part in the present.

Nodding to her, Oscar carefully leaned over to grasp the strap of the smaller bag tightly and gestured toward the doorway. "After you," he responded softly.

Plucking the larger bag up off of the floor, Angie smiled to her partner as she walked around him to continue their tour toward the bedroom at the back of the house. Stopping at her hardwood door, Angie paused and inhaled a deep breath as she let her fingers linger on the cold brass of the door knob. Closing her eyes tightly, she mentally steeled her nerves as she turned the object in her hand and the door released itself from the jamb. Slowly pushing the door open with her fingertips, she hung back slightly as the door settled against the doorstop on the wall.

"It's not much, but…you're welcome to it," she whispered softly as she stepped into the room. Angie took a moment to remind herself not to be nervous, regardless of the fact that this was the first time a man had stepped foot into her bedroom in years. Who was she kidding? Of course she was nervous; this wasn't just any man – this was Oscar. Hell, she had yet to figure out exactly how to label him in her head, but she knew that terms like 'partner' and 'friend' barely covered her sentiments anymore. Cringing to herself, she mentally kicked herself to snap out of this funk.

"You okay, partner?" Oscar asked from her side, a concerned eyebrow climbing up his forehead.

"Wha – oh, yeah, uh…." Angie stuttered briefly. "I – uh – I just remembered something I forgot to tell Manny before he left, that's all," she recovered quickly, flashing a quick smile.

Oscar nodded skeptically as he stepped forward to deposit his duffel bag onto the large bed in front of him. The cool light grey of the walls with the navy and white striped duvet put him at ease almost immediately, as they contrasted against the sandstone of the headboard of the four posted bed. The bedroom's décor was reminiscent of the small seaside cottage that he would visit with his parents as a young child.

Hastily stepping forward to drop the other bag beside its partner, Angie threw her thumb over her shoulder as she pointed toward the bathroom. Turning quickly, she walked through the pocket door and her muffled voice came back through toward Oscar as he sat down tiredly on the foot of the bed. Reappearing in the doorway with a small assortment of bath towels and linen, Angie smiled to her partner as she offered them to him. "I'll go ahead and let you get settled; just holler if you need anything."

Carefully accepting the tower of towels, Oscar shared an appreciative smile with Angie as she backed up toward the doorway and disappeared as she pulled the door shut gently. Setting the pile off to the side, Oscar toed off his shoes and curled up carefully on the bed. Reaching up and dragging a pillow toward his head, he clumsily shoved it under his head while grasping another and hugging it tightly. Inhaling deeply, he blinked heavily as he allowed himself to relax.

* * *

Following the muffled sounds emanating from the living room, Oscar scrubbed a hand through his disheveled hair dragging the hand across his face and into his beard. Scratching softly, he paused at the end of the hall to look up and see Angie lounged in front of the television set with her bare feet perched upon the dark mahogany coffee table. Bright red toenails peaked out from the crisp cuffs of her dark washed blue jeans, wiggling in time with the light chuckles coming from her throat.

Stepping further into the room, Angie jumped quickly for the remote and lowered the volume several notches before preparing to rise to her feet. Holding out his hand to still her movements, Oscar rounded the end table before settling in beside her to glance at the television set.

"What are we watching?" he asked.

"No idea," Angie replied. "All I can figure out is that every time this guy tries to tell this girl how he feels, she unwittingly foils his plans," she spoke again, using air quotes as she said 'unwittingly'.

"I don't get it," Oscar glanced back at her before turning to the television set once again.

"Well," she began, "this guy seems to think he has the crappiest luck. In reality, she's devised a series of problems to distract him while she figures out her own feelings. She just admitted to her best friend that she thinks she's in love with him, but she's scared."

"Scared of what?" he asked. "Is he really that bad of a guy?"

"No. No, no. He's great, but that's the problem," Angie explained, as Oscar felt like she was talking in circles. "No. She just told her friend that she's scared – of herself, not him. She admitted that she's worried she's going to hurt him; or worse yet, she's worried he'll see her for who she really is and leave," she elaborated. Standing and walking toward the kitchen, she called out to him, "Hungry?"

Without taking his eyes away from the screen, Oscar called back, "I don't know; not really."

Walking back into the room, Angie set a square box down on the table with two bottles of water perched precariously atop the cardboard. Unscrewing the lid to one, she threw the cap back onto the table and dug an orange prescription bottle out of her pocket.

"I don't need -," Oscar began, only to be interrupted.

"Shut your mouth and take one," Angie ordered, palming a small lid back into place and pinching the pill with her free hand before extending it over towards him.

Raising his eyebrows towards her, Oscar waited a moment before taking the proffered pill. "Exactly how am I supposed to take it if I have to shut my mouth?" he smirked at her.

"Keep it up wise guy; I'll teach you real quick how to take medicine without ever opening your lips," Angie replied as she gently flicked his earlobe. Reaching for the box, she settled it across their laps and opened it to reveal a small pizza; half veggie, and half meat-lovers. Scooting closer until her hips brushed against his, she turned the box so the lid opened into his lap and separated the pie into two halves as she slid his half across the divide.

The pair continued eating quietly as they finished the remainder of the film. As the credits rolled, Angie looked over to see Oscar fighting intensely against the sleep that threatened to wash over him. She leaned forward to deposit the half empty box to the table and then leaned back into the couch once more. Running her palm across his bent knee, his eyes momentarily popped open as he blinked in her direction.

"That was good; thanks," he mumbled softly.

"The pizza, the company, or the film?" she shot back jokingly.

"The – uh – all of the above?" he answered questioningly.

"Gee, thanks," she chuckled. "Although, honestly, I didn't strike you as the romantic comedy type, partner."

Releasing a quiet laugh, Oscar let his head fall back against the cushions as he closed his eyes. Lying completely still, Angie momentarily thought he had fallen asleep before he spoke again. "It's hard not to feel for the guy, you know? Or the girl, for that matter."

Angie furrowed her brow as she watched her companion in silence. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she attempted to decipher his statement. "How so?" she asked after a beat of silence passed between them.

Rolling his head to face her, but never opening his eyes, Oscar spoke quietly. "It's hard when you feel like you keep trying only to come up against opposition all of the time. Eventually you get burned out, and then it becomes a case of too little, too late."

"'Too little, too late?'" she repeated.

"Yeah…" he answered, trailing off.

"So…I guess you could say it's kind of like burning your bridges?" Angie questioned.

Opening his eyes tiredly, Oscar met her gaze as it lingered on his face. "Yeah, something kind of like that. People get tired of waiting; or sometimes they even feel rejected and hurt," he spoke quietly as he closed his eyes once more. "Suddenly you realize that you may have missed your chance."

Angie let his words sink in as she sat quietly a moment more. She genuinely hoped he wasn't simply referring to the film, but she lacked the courage to push further. Reaching forward, she used the remote to turn off the device before rising to clear away the debris left from their meal. As the cushions shifted under her weight, Oscar pried his eyelids open once more to watch her movements as she moved about the living room and into the kitchen to dispose of the trash. With a deep sigh, Oscar rolled his head to watch the city lights dance across the ceiling before slowly rising to his feet.

Appearing in the archway from the kitchen, Angie paused before meeting Oscar on the far side of the couch. "I'm just going to grab some things from my bathroom quickly, and then it's all yours," she said smiling. Oscar nodded as he followed her through into the bedroom and fiddled with the large duffel bag from where it still sat at the end of the bed as he awaited her return. With an assortment of cosmetic supplies in her hands, Angie exited the bathroom and paused in the doorway toward the hall; "I'll be back for my nightly watch; let me know if you need anything."

Following her departure, Oscar turned back to the task at hand as he fished out a pair of plaid pajama pants and white undershirt from his bag. Oscar managed to remove his slacks and button down shirt with little trouble, and squirm his way into the pajama pants he had laid out in front of him. Toeing off his socks, he carefully leaned over to grab them as well before setting the old clothes in a pile in the corner. Turning his attention once more to the t-shirt, he gently removed his sling and tried to thread his injured arm through the holes before attempting to pull the soft knit over his torso.

Struggling for a few tough minutes, Oscar finally pulled the shirt away from where it laid partially in place around his shoulders in a huff of frustration. Giving into mental and physical exhaustion, he toyed with the fabric in his hand as he debated whether or not to attempt the feat once more, or give in to the frustration and go without. Breathing deeply, he attempted to exercise one more time, only to reach the same stage in the process without being able to advance much further. Grimacing tightly, he attempted to stretch a bit further when he heard the muted brush of the door opening.

For a brief moment, Angie stopped in the doorway to her bedroom as she watched Oscar struggle with the shirt around him. As his head appeared from the opening at the top, he turned to watch her as she took slow deliberate steps toward him and attempted to help straighten the frustrating fabric. Pulling the shirt into place across his shoulder blades, she gently grasped the hem of the t-shirt as she tugged the fabric down the sides of his ribcage. Her knuckles ghosted across his bare flesh as her eyes followed the invisible trail left by her fingers.

Before reaching the lower section of his abdomen, her ministrations halted as she observed the puckered scar painted pink left over from where the chest tube had been wedged between his ribs. One of his ribs protruded out slightly further than the rest, never fully setting properly despite the surgeon's best efforts. Running the pad of her thumb over the small blemish, Angie's eyes flew to his as Oscar sucked in a deep breath quickly. Glancing back down at her hand, she could see faint traces of goose bumps as they erupted across his skin.

* * *

**There you have it; chapter 13 all in one nice and neat package. Thank you, guys, for all of your kind words. Almost over, but not quite - you are all fantastic!  
**

**Comments/Questions/Suggestions - shoot 'em at me! (Trust me - I know where most, if not all, of you want this to go. I'll be honest; it probably won't go THAT far. Just sayin'...I'm more about the emotional than the physical.)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: *Sigh* Honestly, they're not mine. Unfortunately.**

**Author's Note: I was asked in one of my reviews about when the idea of "distance" was going to come into play. Please read this chapter carefully; hopefully the title will make a little more sense. But if this doesn't make you happy, then I'm sorry.**

* * *

"I'm sorry," Angie whispered softly, drawing her hands back to her sides and then fidgeting with the flannel drawstring of her own pajama bottoms.

Oscar, lost in a mental fog, almost didn't hear the soft apology. Once it had registered with him, he briefly wondered if she was apologizing for the lingering touch, or for something much more significant. He wasn't sure whether he hoped she had noticed his reaction to her, or if he'd rather she pretended to ignore him once again. Oscar had known for quite awhile now how she attempted to hide herself away, especially as of late.

Turning around, Angie leaned over to grasp the fabric of the sling from where it sat atop the covers whilst attempting to regain her composure once her back was turned. Breathing deeply, she stretched her fingers out only to slow her motions until she felt calm enough to face him. Angie then felt more than heard Oscar as he released a heavy sigh; his warm breath grazing across her bare shoulder, protected only by the thin strap of her tank top.

Faking a smile to disguise her nerves, she turned back around and offered to help him with the sling, only to have him turn her down. Taking the object from her, he placed it in the duffel bag and removed the bag from the corner of the bed. Setting the bag down near the far side of the room, Oscar gently supported his injured arm as he walked around the foot of the bed and pulled back the covers as he sat wearily on the right side.

Hanging his head low, Angie watched the muscles flex in his neck as he rolled his head from side to side to help ease some tension. Still standing by the foot of the bed, she observed as he began to lie back on the cushioned mattress and struggled in his attempt to cover himself with the bedding. Quickly rounding the bed's edge, she grasped the sheets tightly as she draped them over his prone form.

Reaching toward the lamp, she turned it off with a muted click and started to turn towards the small armchair in the corner of the room before Oscar's calloused fingers wrapped around her petite wrist, effectively stilling her movements. Turning back toward her partner, she could make out the contours of his upper body illuminated by the soft glow of the bathroom light through the barely opened doorway.

"I'm not going anywhere," she spoke softly, covering his hand with her own. Gesturing toward the chair, she spoke again. "I'll be right there."

"You need rest, too," Oscar replied. "We can share the space; it is yours after all and we're both adults."

Angie weighed her options; she knew he was right, but honestly didn't know what to make of the situation. She had been consistently surprised at Oscar's receptiveness to her presence lately, but more surprised at her inability to distance herself like she had grown accustomed to doing. She wasn't sure she was prepared to admit that her walls had been crumbling, but she wasn't blind to the shift in their relationship lately, especially following the accident.

Like the moon threw the ocean to and from the shore in high tide, only for the sunrise to calm the frantic swells, she felt perpetually adrift as she struggled against the waves of her life. Angie knew her incessant battering had worn Oscar down as she washed small grains of him away into the vast and dark depths of the ocean, but she decided she couldn't do it anymore. She had finally decided that she was tired; she was tired of spending her energy in futile attempts to keep herself afloat, only to return to the solid warm haven of the sand that he represented. Angie committed her waning energies into reaching the shoreline and anchoring herself there.

Angie came out of her dizzying thoughts as Oscar brushed the pad of his thumb across the inside of her wrist, sweeping in time with the pulsing of her heartbeat. As her eyes met his, she was taken with the glimmer that swept across the warm brown pools, and she knew her answer. Blinking back moisture from her own eyes, she trailed her fingertips through his palm as they untangled and she walked with deliberate steps around the bed to the other side.

Hesitating, she looked to him once more before drawing the covers back and slipping her toes down between them. Tucking the bedding under her elbow as she turned to face her partner, and she held her breath as he gently turned on his side to face her with his left arm carefully tucked against his side and his right wedged underneath him. Oscar brought his right hand up to rub his weary eyes and then tuck the hand under his pillow before Angie's hand grasped his own and stilled his movements.

"What happened?" Angie asked, quietly tracing the small scar on the outer side of his little finger.

Taking the plunge, Oscar watched her ministrations before quietly asking, "To the finger? Or to us?"

Angie's eyes flashed to his, back to the finger, and then back to his as she laced her fingers through his. "Both?" Angie asked hesitantly.

"Broken," he replied simply, and Angie briefly wondered whether he was referring to them or the digit.

Oscar breathed deeply before continuing, nodding to their joined hands. "It's a little out of whack and somewhat dysfunctional," he whispered.

Angie waited for him to meet her gaze, and then replied decisively, "Different; but I want to believe that it could be good." She waited a moment before she spoke up again. "I really am sorry," she whispered, "for so many things; for hurting you in so many ways. And I don't know why, but you continue to believe in whatever this is," she said as she gestured between them. "It's like you can see something that's not there."

"Just because you can't always see it doesn't mean it's not there, Ang," Oscar replied. "Call it faith, or intuition, but I believe in something more powerful than what the two of us can be on our own. Something greater than ourselves and encourages me to press forward when I'm tired or hurt or afraid, and the path is entirely uncertain. Partners or otherwise, you're a part of me, Angie, and that's what makes everything worth it."

Oscar closed his eyes in frustration as he mentally scolded himself for bombarding her. "I think I should be the one to apologize," he said quietly. "I can't do this; I can't pretend and keep you at arm's length because it's not working. And that's my fault, not yours."

Angie gently untangled her fingers from his and choked back tears as she watched his brow furrowed closer together as his frown deepened. Hesitantly, she settled her other palm against his cheek before she twirled her fingertips through the scratchy surface of his beard and continued her gentle massage up and over his temple. Threading her fingers through his curls, the pad of her thumb slipped over the scar at his temple as she brought her forehead to rest against his.

"You're right, and I do blame you," she began, "because I was fine until you came along...because now you're a part of me, too."

Snapping his eyes open, Oscar held his breath as he searched her blue orbs for further understanding.

Smiling gently, Angie slid her palm down again and brushed her thumb over the soft hair on his upper lip and circling around to the fullness of his bottom lip. "I've never believed that a man and woman could ever be just friends. Maybe it's messy, or complicated; maybe it's temporary, or maybe the wrong time, or maybe too late...,"Angie trailed off.

Oscar carefully lifted his injured arm from his own waist to rest his hand upon Angie's waist, gently slipping his hand underneath the hem of the tank-top and lightly circling his fingers over the soft flesh there. "Maybe even forever?" he asked uncertainly, stilling his movements.

"Forever...," Angie whispered, "I kind of like the sound of that."

Bringing his lips in to meet hers, Oscar watched as her eyelids fluttered closed and stopped before contact. "'Isn't it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back everything is different?'," he whispered before softly claiming her lips with his own.

After a moment of soft caresses and kisses, Angie pulled back for a moment and smirked at him. "Really?" she teased.

"Sorry," he replied, smiling back at her."Seemed fitting."

* * *

**That's a wrap, folks.**

**Comments/Questions/Suggestions - you know what to do.**

**Oh, and Oscar's quote at the end belongs to C.S. Lewis.**

**I hope it all makes a little more sense now, and I think "distance" can mean something different for different people - they will express it in different ways. It's not great, but this was my first multi-chapter fic (second altogether because I started this before I published "Reservations" and "This Time Around").**

**Finally, thanks for everything. You are all fantastic! You make writing so much easier, and I'm glad I could write for you, as well as read your fics. Please continue to be the supportive and amazing community you all have been for me. Thank you!**


End file.
